


tis the season of holidays and kink

by lightyears



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, Exhibitionism, F/M, Kink, Office Sex, Pegging, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Titty Fucking, Uniform Kink, Yoga sex, corset kink, rivals sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-07-29 16:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16267622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears/pseuds/lightyears
Summary: Series of kink prompts I received on tumblr, supposedly for kinktober but knowing myself I'll continue posting into nov/decPlease heed to the description of each chapter, as they'll likely range in levels of smut/kink





	1. Uniform kink

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy pants, tongue sweet with her name as she presses up to steal another kiss. “Someone’s gonna catch us.”

The strain in his voice makes her smile, half victory-half something she’s not quite ready to name, and she pulls away with a bite to her lip, in the way she knows makes her look all kinds of sexy. “You’re off-duty,” she points out, hands sliding from his shoulders, trailing down the smooth ridges of his chest, to his stomach. She feels it tense under her touch, and her smile turns wicked. “No one’ll be looking for you.”

She lets go of him, only to feel for the handle on the door behind him, push it open and prompt Bellamy to follow.

“Not here,” he murmurs in agreement, rough but teasing as he looks around the crowded supplies closet, and Clarke just shrugs, unabashed in the desperation that’s lead to her lack of care about their location.

“Wherever works,” she says, shutting the door behind her and finding the light switch, the room lighting up dimly — just enough to appreciate the sight in front of her.

She slides her hands back up Bellamy’s chest, curls them into his top to pull him closer, and he takes it as the encouragement it is, moving into the little space she has, backing her up against the door. His hands settle heavy on her waist and the hardness of him presses just slightly above where she needs him, and she feels the heat that pools in her core, the way her pussy is already so wet for him. _God,_ she can’t wait to see his cock. It’s really a wonder she’s held out this long.

“Sure about this?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke’s nodding before he’s even finished the question.

“Yeah,” she says, “definitely,” her eyes again flicking over to the logo just beside her left hand. Bellamy’s grip tenses around her as he follows her gaze, and she sees the realisation there when he looks back to her. Amusement that mixes with the blown desire of his eyes, the smirk that pulls slowly at his lips.

“Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice dropping low as he gives her another squeeze, as if to let her know he’s only teasing.

And look, Clarke will admit that it is a little embarrassing, that something so simple could have this effect on her. Just a basic emblem and the words _Fire Department_ , red and gold against the navy blue of the teeshirt, and yet the short glance has already sent flickers of heat all the way through her. Add to that the way his top stretches across the broadness of his chest, that it cuts off just early enough to appreciate the curves of his biceps, and the perfection of his ass in his simple navy pants, and it’s really a lot to take in, all at once.

So it’s not really Clarke’s fault that she’s only realising _now_ that she really wants to fuck a firefighter, a firefighter who just happens to be her best friend. _Or_ that her realisation has coincided with her accidentally walking in on said best friend changing twenty minutes ago, catching a glimpse of him as he took off his full gear. She’s not sure how sex would work in all those bulky clothes, but she’s sure she’ll be able to find out another day.

Right now, the basic uniform Bellamy’s got on is enough. _Definitely_ enough.

“Shut up,” she mutters, a little whiny, and when he chuckles she feels his breath on her lips. It’s enough to get her to push up on her toes, _make_ him shut up with her mouth.

He grunts into it, opening for her immediately, and the kiss is hot and desperate from the very beginning: hungry lips sliding against each other, tongues sweeping for a taste and then another. Clarke’s hands find their way into Bellamy’s hair, and his settle on the curve of her ass. Her fingers curl to tug a sharp prompt and he responds by lifting her up, pressing her firm against the door, his hands now on the bottoms of her thighs, rough skin meeting smooth as the skirt of her dress bunches up between them.

He rolls his hips and she feels him, feels the hardness of his cock beneath his pants, the way her cunt pulses hot at the brief moment of almost-contact.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, the curse captured quickly by Bellamy’s mouth, one kiss, then another, and finally the slow, sweet graze of his teeth over her lower lip. She laughs softly, already a little fucked out from the desperation wrapping itself around every single inch of her, and Bellamy’s eyes flash at the sound, hungry in a way she’s never seen him before. “I want it,” she says, curling her legs around his hips, pressing him tight against her. “ _You._ Fucking me for real.”

He pulls back, eyes flicking over her face quickly before landing on hers, a weight behind them that feels heavier than just this moment. “Yeah?” He asks, rough in the best way possible. He rolls his hips again, slower this time, firmer and more purposeful, watching as her eyes flutter just slightly, as her skin grows warm, a pink flush no doubt creeping its way up her face. “You wanna get fucked, princess?”

She sucks in a breath. “Please.”

“Fucked by a firefighter?”

He’s a combination of serious and teasing that makes trickles of need curl hot right at her pussy, makes some unnamed emotion tighten in her chest, and her hands are unbuttoning his pants before she even realises it. “Fucked by _you_ ,” she says, nodding towards him in a way he understands means to tug down his pants and his briefs; a moment of balanced coordination between them before his hands are back on her thighs, holding her up and to him.

She doesn’t bother in getting her own panties off completely, too desperate to take ten seconds without the weight of his touch on her, instead simply slipping a hand under her dress to pull them to the side. Another look of heated understanding passes and Bellamy’s lining himself up to her, the head of his cock pressing deliciously between the lips of her pussy. He groans when he feels the hot slickness of her, mutters a curse that makes her smirk, but the expression slips pretty quickly, as he finds the right angle, begins to push into her.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, as he sinks into her fully, the sweet stretch of him so good she can’t breath for a long second, and he’s quick to taste that one too, mouth catching hers in a hot and sharp kiss as he pulls out, fucks back into her. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

He laughs against her, pulling back for a second, his mouth stretched into a wide grin, lips red and swollen from her. “That is what we’re doing, yes,” he says, punctuating the remark with a hard and fast shift of his hips, cock hitting her just right.

“Ass.”

“ _Brat._ ” He leans in, bites at her neck before laving the sting with his tongue. “Be nice or I’ll take the top off.”

The threat is ridiculous, she realises on some level — a shirtless Bellamy is hardly something to be upset by — but it lands nonetheless, and Clarke whines a little, petulant. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she says, tugging at his hair again to pull him back, allow the image of that fucking logo and those fucking words to sink into her mind, blend with the hazy pleasure of his cock.

He chuckles, adjusting slightly with another grin on his face, giving himself more leverage to fuck her deeper, harder, faster. The hot tension at her core begins to coil in a familiar way, a simmering of warmth starting to run under her skin, and she slides her free hand to where they’re joined, finding her clit and rubbing it with tight circles, the sharp pleasure only adding to Bellamy’s fucking. She clenches down on him, his cock hot and perfect inside her, and he groans in response, thrusts going a little desperate as he catches her gaze and holds it.

“Wish I could kiss you,” he grinds out, and she breathes out a laugh, fingers curling tight in his hair, a reminder he obviously doesn’t need.

She wants to see all of him as she comes, and he knows it.

“After,” she tells him, and it’s all the encouragement he needs, fucking her hard and desperate, winding her higher and higher, until it’s too much — the rough grip of his hands on her thighs and the perfect feel of his cock in her cunt, the tingling that spreads from the her clit and the sight of him in that goddamn fucking _uniform_ — and she snaps with a silent cry, pussy clenching around him as she comes.

Bellamy follows only a few strokes after, spilling words of praise into the cradle of her neck and shoulder, lips warm and perfect on her skin, a tether as the hot pleasure of release rolls through her, curls her fingers and toes, makes her tremble against every point of him.

They’re both breathing hard as they come down, and Clarke again uses his hair to guide him up to her, the kiss not much more than the brief slide of their lips between pants for air, but still so good her mind spins a little from it all. She smiles against his mouth, hums when he bites at her lower lip again, a teasing scrape of his teeth before he continues down her jaw.

She sighs, the sound soft and satisfied. “So I think I should drop by your work more often.”

He pulls back, laughing lowly as he looks at her, slow and languid. Curious. A look to find an answer. His eyes go bright when he gets there, a combination of amusement and hunger. “You want to get fucked in full firefighter gear, don’t you?”

Just the thought sends a delicious shiver through her, and she knows Bellamy feels it, feels the confirmation of his suspicion. And she could take it as the easy out it is, but it also feels like the right time to be honest — about more than her apparent uniform kink, at least.

“I want to get fucked by _you_ in full firefighter gear,” she says, and his responding grin is the best thing she’s ever seen.

Maybe second best, after the uniform.

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss her again, quick and sharp. “But that shit is heavy, princess. I think we better get a costume to fulfil that fantasy of yours.”

“Don’t worry,” she says with a laugh, unable to bite down her smile. “I’ll definitely be googling sexy firefighter costumes tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed first of this series!


	2. Pregnancy/baby verse I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received three (four technically, but three different) prompts to do with pregnancy, so I've decided they'll just be in the same verse at various stages
> 
> This is baby making stage

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he murmurs, lips moving against Clarke’s neck as she arches into him. He trails his tongue to the hollow of her collarbone, feels her breath warm on his shoulder when she lets out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

“What?” she asks, wriggling a little beneath him as he continues his path down her body; soft kisses over the swells of her breasts, a teasing swirl of his tongue around her nipples.

“You,” he says, the half-truth coming without any proper thought, and Clarke whines a little, that needy sound of hers spurring him on.

He sits back, sliding his hands up her sides and cupping her breasts to feel her properly, the weight familiar under his touch. She’s always had such fantastic tits, soft and full and fitting perfectly in the palms of his hands, rosy nipples that peak with only the barest of touches. He flicks his thumbs over them now, heat pooling low in his gut when he feels them stiffen.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, smiling darkly when Clarke shifts beneath him again.

“ _Bell,_ ” she whines, and he flicks his gaze up to her, expression somewhere between frustrated and desperate. He chuckles, amused without being surprised. Always so impatient, always begging for him to go faster, even when she knows better.

“Clarke,” he says, steady even in his roughness, not letting her derail him. He returns his gaze back to her chest, drinking her in slowly, indulgently, letting the sight of her fill him up. He can’t imagine how much she’ll change, but the possibility of it makes his mind spin a little, wonder mixing heavily with desire.

He continues his path back down her body, hands moving to the dip of her waist and then the curve of her stomach. Unable to help himself, he runs his thumbs over the usual soft swell of it, imagines how it’d feel as a proper bump, small at first but growing bigger. The low, heavy weight of hunger and desire are quick to thrum through him at the thought, and Bellamy swallows as he presses his hand flat against her, looks back to Clarke to find similar emotions flickering behind the heat of her eyes.

“You,” he repeats after a long beat, and this time the steadiness is gone, leaving only a raw, rough quality to his voice. “Pregnant.”

He feels the way Clarke reacts, the shiver that rolls through her body, hips shifting up slightly to meet his. “Fuck,” she breathes out, her throat working slightly. “You thought about it?”

“All fucking week, babe,” he says, keeping his eyes steady on hers as he continues to smooth his thumb over her stomach. “Drove me mad at work.”

She flushes with his words, a pretty pink creeping up her chest, replacing the usual creaminess of her skin. “And you think you’re ready?”

“You caught me off guard, telling me you wanted to start trying,” he admits, choosing his words carefully, because he knows Clarke will care about them, that he’s not just caught up in the moment, in the heated tension that’s building between them. “But we both knew we wanted kids in the future. I just needed a few days to reconcile that future with _now._ ”

She lets out a breath, expression shifting into something heated and intense. “And now?”

Bellamy grins, moving back down until he’s settled between her legs, an arm on either side of her. “Like I said,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his mouth against hers, kissing her long and deep as he rolls his hips, lets her feel just what the image of her pregnant is doing to him. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Fuck, Bell,” she breathes, hands moving up his back and to his neck, fingers curling tight in his hair, and she’s the one to pull him in again, harder this time, catching his bottom lip between her teeth.

He grunts, accepting the soothing of her tongue before she licks past his lips, kisses him the way she does when she wants him to lose his mind a little, get him absolutely aching for her. It works, only takes a few seconds before he’s kissing her back just as hard, just as desperate, and he’s got a hand trailing back down the softness of her skin, to the edge of her panties.

And fuck, he knew she’d be wet, but it still makes his body jolt, anticipation and desperation thrumming heavy through his body as he presses past the lips of her pussy, fingers sliding against the warm slickness of her.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he grinds out on a breath, voice low and rough as he strokes her, circles a teasing finger over her clit. “So wet for me.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it,” she whines, eyes locking on his, hooded with need and something deeper he knows is reflected in his own gaze.

A heavy moment of understanding passes between them.

Bellamy rocks back on his knees, squeezes Clarke’s hip. “Ass up, princess.”

Her laugh isn’t much more than an exhaled breath as she does as he asks, and then he’s sliding her panties over her hips, getting them down and off her legs, his own briefs following only a second later.

Neither of them miss the fact that he doesn’t reach for a condom, and it’s another heated moment of anticipation before Clarke’s hands are back on him, tugging him into the spaces around her that feel perfectly crafted for them; his hips in the cradle of her thighs, his cock brushing against the warmth of her pussy, his chest hovering just above the softness of her curves.

“Can’t wait to have your baby,” she whispers, and Bellamy sucks in a breath as she wraps a hand around him firmly, guiding him to her.

She slides the head of his cock to the opening of her cunt, and pure need takes over as he sinks into her, feeling her hot and wet and tight around him, so fucking perfect he can’t help but give himself a few long beats once he’s pressed deep. But as always, Clarke’s impatient, and she whines after only a few seconds, wrapping her legs around him and shifting her hips beneath him.

“Needy,” he mutters, the word rough but fond, drawing back quickly and fucking into her again, with a long, hard stroke.

She makes a soft, pleased sound in response, tugging him back down to catch his mouth in a greedy kiss, and it’s all Bellamy needs to settle into a familiar rhythm, fucking Clarke hard and deep as she meets him with every stroke. Her words begin to echo in his mind, _Can’t wait to have your baby, Can’t wait to have your baby, Can’t wait to have your baby,_ and he repeats the sentiment across her lips, kisses them into her when she sucks in a shaky breath, feeling them trickle into the urgency running into each of their movements.

It shifts something between them, and he knows that neither of them will last long because of it; a new headiness wraps itself around them, adding to the usual tension that comes with the hard slide of their lips and the greedy roaming of their hands and the quick shift of their meeting hips. Something heavier, something deep and primal that drives their hunger, has Clarke curling her fingers between his, shifting their joint hands to her stomach, has Bellamy’s mind filling with images of her growing belly, of the weight of her baby bump under his touch.

“God, can’t wait to feel you,” he husks, squeezing the soft swell of her stomach, and Clarke cries out quietly, pussy beginning to flutter around his cock.

“Me too,” she says, the words not much more than a breath, “so much, Bell, so much,” and he knows she’s only a few seconds away, can hear it in the waver of her voice, feel it in the tremble of her body against his. He moves their linked hands, shifting them slightly lower to get his fingers back on her clit, desperate to get her there, and when he feels her wind up even tighter around him, he knows he has.

“I’ll come as soon as you do, baby,” he grinds out, and the words are apparently the last little push Clarke needs.

Her mouth drops open on a soft moan, her legs shake where they’re wrapped around him and her cunt clenches hot and tight as she comes hard. He drinks in the sight as best he can, but the heady need to spill himself into Clarke is finally too much, the familiar tightness running down his spine as his balls pull tight and his cock swells, and he comes too, the feel of his cum filling her still pulsing cunt making him groan roughly.

“That’s it, Bell,” Clarke murmurs, a little greedy as she keeps him pressed deep inside of her, and Bellamy drops his forehead to hers with a lazy grin, each of them breathing heavily as the weight of possibility settles quickly between them, of what they could’ve just made together. He places his hand back on Clarke’s stomach, thumb rubbing a soothing motion along the soft swell, and she tips his head back to her only a moment later, catching his lips in a soft, slow kiss. “I think this baby-making business will be some fun,” she says, smiling when he bites teasingly at her lip, soothes it with his tongue.

He shifts back, lets his own smile grow as he looks down at the glowing expression of the woman he loves, the woman who’ll someday be the mother of his children.

“Yeah, baby,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss her again, as best he can when they’re both grinning so much. “I think you’re right about that.”


	3. Corset kink + titty fucking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of chilling adventures of sabrina (and minor spoilers, depending on what you consider a spoiler)

“God, princess, you have no fucking clue how crazy you’ve driven me in this thing.”

Clarke breaths out a laugh, gasping a little when Bellamy’s mouth moves to her neck, hot and wet as he kisses a path along the column and up to her ear, to that sweet spot he knows so well, the one that tugs at something low and warm in her gut.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, a coy smile pulling at her lips. “I knew exactly what I was doing to you.”

His grip tightens on her deliciously, fingers pressing hard around her hips. “Is that right?” he asks, grazing his teeth over her skin, making her shiver.

She slides her hands up his chest, curls them into his hair and tugs him back, hot anticipation tightening throughout her body when she sees the way his eyes are hooded, dark with desire. “Mmhm,” she murmurs, unable to fight the teasing smile that grows. “You think I forgot your drunken ramblings of how much you loved me in blue? How you wanted to buy me a navy lingerie set and _fuck_ me in it?”

He pauses for a moment, eyes flashing at her words, but he doesn’t look embarrassed. No, his gaze is heavy and completely unabashed. _Pleased._ “You’re saying this is all for me?” he asks, voice dropping low as he brings a hand up to her chest, tracing the edge of fabric curved along the swell of her breasts.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she says, feeling herself grow warm when Bellamy’s expression darkens at the confession, into something hot and hungry. “Besides, witches are in. I could be Sabrina Spellman, ten years later.” She flicks her eyes down to her chest deliberately, lingering for a long moment before meeting Bellamy’s gaze again, biting a little at her lip. “Once she’s discovered corsets, that is.”

He laughs, the sound rough and delicious, and his eyes drop to his hand, as it begins to trail down the costume, over the tightened front fastenings. “And does that make me Nick or Harvey?”

She considers, watching as he reaches the band of her skirt, a navy semi-sheer wrap flowing from the dip of her waist down to her feet. “Not sure yet,” she murmurs, focussing on the way he unties the skirt, lets it fall to the floor, leaving her only in the strapless corset and a pair of boy-shorts. “Although, with your penchant for threesomes, probably Nick.”

Bellamy snorts, finally looking back up at her, a flicker of amusement behind the hooded desire. “I can accept that,” he says, beginning to back her towards his bed, until her legs hit the edge and he’s pressed against her warm and close. “Wanna lie back for me, princess?”

It’s not a difficult decision, and Clarke’s quick to nod, shuffling back onto his bed, the weight of his hungry gaze hot on her skin. But he doesn’t follow as she expected, instead remaining at the bottom of his bed and drinking her in for a long and greedy moment, each second making anticipation curl tighter at her core. She’s close to protesting, making a soft and needy sound she knows turns him on endlessly, but then he’s bringing a hand to his own costume, tugging it up and off, and it dies in her throat.

Because _fuck_ , one quick sweep has his toga on the floor and Bellamy close to naked, his bare chest broad and toned, the outline of his cock thick and hard beneath his briefs.

Hot pulses of need run all through her, and it’s impossible for Clarke not to ease it with a little pleasure. She brings her hands up to her chest, giving her tits some attention and watching the way Bellamy focuses on the movement.

“God, look at you,” he murmurs, sounding almost in awe as she plays with herself, just the soft squeeze of her hands and the slow sweep of her thumbs. His own hand drops to his cock, and she watches with delight as he begins rubbing himself over his briefs. “Fuck, babe, you’re really making this difficult for me.”

She tugs at her lip, biting back her pleased smile. “Why’s that?”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flash as they meet hers. “I really wanted to get you off first.”

The meaning behind his words is not lost on her, and Clarke feels something dark and triumphant curl tight in her chest. Bellamy’s usually nothing but dedicated in his need to make her come before he does, and the knowledge that right now his own desperation is enough to eclipse that makes her feel hot all over, as though she’s sinking in to the warmth of his unspoken praise.

“I don’t mind waiting,” she promises, hoping he can hear the sincerity in her voice. “What do you want now?”

She sees the way his throat works as he swallows hard, his gaze heavy as he sweeps it over her body slowly. “I wanna fuck your tits,” he says finally, and Clarke feels the weight of his words on her immediately, a thrill of anticipation prickling at her skin. “God, princess, it’s all I’ve been thinking about this whole fucking night.”

She sucks in a breath. “Yeah?”

He laughs darkly. “I told you you were driving me crazy tonight. Throughout that whole goddamn party.”

She doesn’t bother responding to that, instead keeping her eyes on Bellamy as she presses herself up and leans over to his bedside table, feeling around for the bottle of lube he keeps there. When she finds it, she holds it up with a coaxing smile. “Come here, Bell,” she murmurs, leaning back down again to press her breasts together. “Let me feel your cock.”

This time he doesn’t make her wait, expression flashing as he tugs down his briefs, his cock jutting out hard and thick, a gorgeous flushed brown she can’t wait to see against the pale expanse of her chest. He climbs onto the bed, begins to crawl over her with the teasing press of his mouth on her skin, but there’s an urgency in his movements now, and it doesn’t take him long to reach her corset.

He straddles her stomach, cock pressing over the fabric as he begins working on the top little bow. “Goddamn gorgeous,” Bellamy mutters, drinking her in hungrily as he unfastens the top, as her tits start to spill from the tight confines of it.

He ducks his head as soon they’re free enough for what they need, pushing loosened the fabric back quickly, and Clarke sucks in a shaky breath when he immediately takes a nipple in his mouth, laving over it with his warm and wet tongue, suckling and flicking until she feels it stiffen into a hard peak between his lips. He moves to her other nipple, gives it the same attention, and she feels each touch send a fluttering pulse to her pussy, a growing need she knows he’ll eagerly take of later, once she’s taken care of his.

When he finally leans back, his mouth is red and worked and his eyes are blown almost completely black. “Such pretty tits, babe,” he murmurs, and Clarke bites at her lip when she looks down and sees what he does: her tits spilling from her half undone corset, her skin wet and pink from his mouth, her nipples flushed and hard from all of his attention.

“Pretty enough to fuck, I think,” Clarke breathes out, loving the sound of Bellamy’s groan as she gets a hand on his cock, feels him hot and throbbing in her grasp. “Come on,” she says, making him chase her touch as she guides him forward, right to the underside of her breasts. “You’re gonna feel perfect between my tits.”

“Fuck, princess,” he mutters, watching her closely as she picks up the lube again, gets some on her hand before wrapping it back around him, working his cock until it moves nice and smooth in her grasp.

His head tips back on another grunt, but when her grip tightens around him, he refocuses on her quickly, the hot intensity of his gaze just what she wants as she squeezes a generous amount of lube over her chest as well. The growl that rips from his throat is one of the hottest things she’s ever heard, and his hands are back on her only a second later, rubbing it into her skin, massaging it between her breasts, getting her nice and slick for him, until heated satisfaction is shining in his eyes.

“Fucking gorgeous, babe,” he says, and Clarke grins as she gets her hands back on herself, linking her fingers and pressing her tits together.

“Come on, Bell,” she murmurs, feeling hot with anticipation as she meets his gaze, lets him see the unabashed desire in her expression. “ _Fuck me._ ”

He mutters a low curse, but does as she asks, positioning his cock at the opening she’s created for him before shifting his hips forward, the hot length of him sliding tight and smooth between her tits, until the head is pressing out from the top of her cleavage. Her breath hitches at the sight, the image so much hotter than she was expecting, and without thought Clarke tilts her head as Bellamy draws back, opens her mouth and presses out her tongue, ready for his next thrust.

When it comes, she gets a nice, salty taste of him, the little lick of the pre-cum coating the tip of his cock enough to make her hungry for more, and Bellamy’s grunt only adds to her desire. His eyes flash as they land on hers, and the barely restrained desperation tightening his expression sends a warm thrill all the way through her.

All he needs is her permission.

“Come on, baby,” she coaxes, unable to help but tease him a little, moving her tits along his cock for him. “Fuck me hard and fast. Make yourself come.”

“Jesus, princess,” he groans, throat working on a hard swallow, but thankfully she was right, and all he needed was the words, because he complies without any further encouragement, shifting into a fast rhythm she knows will get him there quickly.

His thrusts are hard and sharp, his cock moving hot along the slick press of her tits around him, meeting the greedy flick of her tongue on every upstroke, and it doesn’t take long for him to become a little desperate, until praise begins falling from his lips and his head is tipping back, as he fucks into her faster and faster and faster. She presses her breasts together harder in anticipation, trying to make herself tighter for him, wanting nothing more than to have him come this way, chasing his own pleasure and release, and she can’t help the little pleased whine she lets out when his hips jerk over her and he swears.

“Fuck, Clarke, I’m gonna come,” he mutters, and she’s only barely got time to reassure him to keep going before his body goes tense and his balls tighten against the underside of her tits, and hot, thick ropes of cum are spurting onto her neck and jaw, Bellamy calling her name on a low groan.

“That’s it, babe,” she breathes out, taking over to move her tits around him for just a few extra moments, until he’s completely spent. “So gorgeous, Bell. God, that was so fucking hot.”

He breathes out a rough laugh, rocking back as he brings his hands back to her chest, running his thumbs soothingly over the swells of her breasts. “Jesus, Clarke,” he says, shaking his head a little. “You’re telling me. Fucking incredible.”

He smile feels dazed, simply from the exhilaration his uninhibited desperation brought her. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a soft and sweet kiss to her lips before moving off of her to grab a tissue.

He cleans her up quickly, collapsing beside her once he’s done, and Clarke really shouldn’t be surprised when he immediately slides his hand down to her cunt, slipping his fingers beneath her panties and running them along the slick arousal that’s pooled there. Her clit is hot and throbbing under his touch, and she cries quietly as he begins rubbing tight circles into her, already so wound up from watching him come undone.

“Now let me make you come, princess,” he murmurs, mouth pressing hot on her neck, moving up to whisper low in her ear. “Wanna watch you fall apart in that pretty corset. _God_ , wanna see you in that all the fucking time.”

She whines softly, grinding against his hand a little, pleasure building hot and fast.

“Yeah, Bell,” she breathes out on a hazy smile, already imagining just how often she’ll be wearing it for him, just how crazy she’ll be making him at the sight of her. “Whatever you want.”


	4. Yoga sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs a visual of my likely shitty description of salute the sun, [here’s a good pic to keep track](http://hotyogaleeds.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/sun-salutations.jpg)

It takes Bellamy a long moment to fully comprehend what he’s just walked in on.

At this time of night, he’d just assumed that the soft glow of light coming from behind Clarke’s door was an indication that she’d fallen asleep while reading. He hadn’t thought twice as he’d shuffled down the hall, eased her door open quietly with the expectation of simply switching off her light, making sure it didn’t wake her later on.

But a passed-out Clarke curled up in bed with a book loosely gripped in her hand isn’t the sight he’s greeted with.

Instead, what he finds is a _very much awake_ Clarke, stretched out on her front along a yoga mat.

Completely naked.

The words are falling rough from his mouth before he can even think about it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Clarke.”

He sees the way she tenses, the previously nicely toned set of her body tightening hard with shock, but she surprises him when she doesn’t move to cover up, instead taking a deep breath as she arches her back, arms stretching out beneath her while her legs stay pressed to the floor, in what he thinks of as a cobra pose.

“Bellamy,” she says after a long beat, voice a little husky. Her face tips up in what looks like the natural position of this pose, and he feels his cock twitch when the movement reveals her chest completely, can’t help but let his eyes drop to her tits quickly, finding them just as perfect as he’s always imagined. Soft and full, nipples flushed a pretty pink. “I didn’t think you’d be home this early.”

He forces his gaze back to her face, swallowing hard when he sees the way her eyes have blown, darkening with the weight of his attention. A flush creeps up her face, her mouth dropping open slightly, and it sends a sharp thrill though him, seeing how his presence is affecting her. A long, heavy beat passes between them, and Bellamy feels tension build quickly, thick and hot as the realisation that’s come curls tight in his gut. 

_Clarke’s not upset that he caught her._

No, in fact — she doesn’t want him to leave.

He steps into her room purposefully, closes the door behind him. “It was quiet, Roan told me he’d close by himself,” he explains, voice coming out rough as he lets himself drink her in a little now, all smooth, pale skin, a mix of toned muscle and soft swells of flesh. His hands flex, the strain of holding himself back from the desire to touch her surging. “What’re you doing?”

“Saluting the sun,” Clarke says simply, and as though just remembering it now, pushes back into a downward dog position with a slow release of breath, ass poking up gorgeously in the air as she shuffles her hands and feet a little, as though she’s trying to make this as torturous as possible for him.

He clears his throat, feeling the heaviness of his own gaze as it follows her movement, imagining his hands on those soft globes. “Naked?”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “Yes.”

She takes another breath as she stretches forward again, this time into a lunge. When she looks at him, her gaze is hot, trailing down his body with an unabashed interest that sends flickers of need all through him, and he can see the way her lips tip up as she catches the hardness of his cock pressing against his jeans. 

“I like the feel of it better,” she elaborates as she brings her other foot forward to meet the first, and it’s as though each word from her mouth curls the tension between them tighter and tighter. “Nothing clinging annoyingly to me,” she continues, giving him a coy smile before she leans forward, body folding to bring her palms flat to the ground. This exhale is somewhere between a breath and a moan, and he feels his whole body tighten at the sound. “Just me, and the nice, slow stretch of my muscles.”

Her words are low and silky, _sensual_ , and it’s easily the best thing Bellamy’s heard before, let alone the fact that it’s Clarke saying it.

The hot thrum of desire that’s grown each second he’s watched her picks up even more, and Bellamy has to swallow hard when Clarke comes back to a standing position, keeping her eyes hot on him as she leans back, raises her arms, and takes in a deep breath. She’s fully on display now, but he doesn’t let his gaze drop, keeping it focussed on her hungry expression as she comes to what seems like a closing position, letting out a final controlled breath as her hands meet in front of her in a prayer pose.

“It helps me de-stress, release some tension,” she says, after a long, heated beat of silence, dropping her hands to her sides. “I started a few years ago now, but you’re the first to ever walk in on me.” She pauses, lips pulling into another coy smile. “Unintentionally, anyway.”

Her words make his cock stiffen even more. He clears his throat again, but his voice still comes out rough when he speaks. “You’ve had people watch you on purpose?”

She tugs at her lip a little, gaze darkening as she looks at him for a lingering beat. “Yeah. I mean, that way, first I can release some tension.” Her eyes again drop to where he’s hard and aching, and he sees the way her desire grows as she takes him in for a long moment, before looking back up at him, smile sharp and wanting. “And then I can _release some tension._ ”

“Fuck, princess,” he growls, and it’s finally too much, her insinuating words and her pretty, bare body and the shameless _want_ clouding her expression, and his self-restraint slips away as he steps towards her, hands finding the soft curve of her waist and tugging her in as he gets his mouth on hers, kissing her hard and desperate.

She responds instantly, whining a little as she matches the hungry slide of his lips, the greedy sweep of his tongue, her hands immediately going to the edge of his top and tugging. They break away just long enough for Clarke to get it off of him, Bellamy pressing forward again as soon as he can, needing to taste her again, needing to feel every inch of her he’s already seen.

He slides his hands down her back as she runs hers down his chest, moves them to the curve of her ass and squeezes the soft globes, the image of her pressing it high and perfect in the air filling his mind, sending flickers of heat all through him. It’s so intoxicating it takes him a long moment to process the words Clarke’s pressing against his lips, as her fingers begin working on his jeans.

“God, wanna see your cock,” she says between kisses, making him shudder when she slips her hand over his briefs, gives him a squeeze. “Had my pussy on display for you for a good few minutes, Bell. Fair’s fair.”

He breathes out a rough, desperate laugh. “Whatever you want, princess.”

She’s tugging his pants and briefs down only a second later, her hand wrapping around his cock as soon as he’s stepped free from them, and his head tips back with a low groan when she works him a little, hand soft but strokes firm.

“So hard for me,” she murmurs happily, tipping his head back to her and pressing up to kiss him again, deep and long, and it’s all he needs to begin guiding her towards her bed, but she surprises him again by pushing at his chest lightly. “Not now,” she murmurs, looking up at him, and he sees the way her eyes light up a little, an extra pulse of hot excitement behind the flicker of want. “I know how I want you to fuck me now, and it’s not in a bed.”

“Yeah?”

She grins, running a finger down his chest. “Definitely,” she says, stepping back just before her hand reaches his cock, her eyes flicking over him as she bites her lip, and he has to hold himself back from responding to her hungry gaze, keep himself still as she turns to her bedside table, goes to grab a condom.

He groans lowly when she rolls it over his length, and she’s quick to catch the sound with her mouth, kissing him hard and sharp before pulling back with a heavy breath.

“You’ll probably need to hold onto me, keep me a bit steady, okay?”

He has no idea what she’s planning, but he nods immediately. “Of course.”

She bites back another coy smile, quickly shifting him to face the end of her yoga mat before she turns her back to him and steps onto it herself.

And then she’s moving, pressing into downward dog again, and Bellamy feels the way his cock pulses hot at the perfect sight in front of him; the long stretch of her legs, the soft curve of her ass, the glimpse of her flushed pussy lips. She rests there for a moment, shifting only slightly, as if to find her balance, and then he watches as she brings one of her legs back towards him, lifting it behind her with an ease that amazes him, continuing to raise it until it’s pointed directly upwards, her back arching slightly as her hips open, baring her to him completely.

“Holy fuck, princess,” he grinds out, transfixed by her, by the strength and flexibility of her body stretched out, as well as the gorgeous view of her perfect cunt. He steps forward, into the cradle of space she’s created for him, his cock brushing against the parted lips of her pussy, her leg coming to rest against his shoulder. He places a hand on her ass, slides it down slightly, along the curve of her back. “God, babe, you’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She turns her head, looks up at him over her shoulder, her face already flushing a pretty pink. “Yeah?”

He laughs, low and rough. “Yeah,” he assures, moving his hand back to guide himself along her cunt, the slick warmth of her arousal feeling like heaven against the thick head of his cock. “So wet, princess.”

She whines, wriggling back against him a little. “That’s what being watched does to me.”

He smiles darkly, finally letting himself press his cock where he’s aching to be. His hands move to her hips, curling tight, careful to ease some the strain she must be feeling maintaining her position.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, before pressing into her with a quick shift of his hips, feeling her hot and perfect around him and getting a nice little needy sound in response, something that runs straight into the urgency tightening his muscles. “As long as you keep making those noises.”

She breathes out a laugh, but it’s cut off quickly as he pulls out, fucks back into her again. And to her credit, she does as he asks, letting out that sweet moan in response.

And with encouragement like that, it’s impossible not to settle into a hard and fast rhythm instantly. Let the sound of skin slapping on skin, the feel of his fingers curling hard around her hips, the perfection of his cock pounding into her wet and tight cunt draw tension hot around them. He knows they’ll both be close quick, and the thought only drives his hunger further, to get her there, fuck her in this perfect position until she’s coming hard around him, until the strength she’s shown him is spent, replaced completely by the hot rush of release.

He moves one hand onto her raised leg, keeping her steady as he shifts slightly, tries to find the perfect angle, the one that’ll make her feel like magic, and he knows immediately when he gets it, Clarke’s whole body hitching, her cunt clenching around him as she whines needily.

“There, there,” she says, her voice a desperate breath as she tries to move against him. “Right there, Bell. Fuck. Please, _please._ ”

“You’re ‘right, baby,” he murmurs, feeling the hot desperation within him pick up and spread, his whole body becoming attuned to the single desire of their pleasure. He fucks into her, hitting that perfect spot in her cunt over and over, feeling her wind tighter around him with each thrust, until she’s babbling pleas and praise, her body trembling around him even as she maintains her stretched and poised position. He wants nothing more than to shatter the last of her composition, and he shifts both of his hands back to her hips, where he has the most control. “Let go, princess,” he grinds out. “You’re almost there, just let go.”

He snaps his hips once, twice, three more times, and then she breaks, coming with a soft whine as her pussy pulses hot around his cock, as her body begins to shake against him, waver in its position, just the kind of overpowering release he was hoping for. He tightens his grip on her hips, keeps her up when he feels her arms start to give out, holding off on the desperation pressing tight at the base of his spine to fuck her through the pleasure.

She’s breathing heavy when she comes down, going soft and lax in his hands, but she manages to turn her head, look up at him over her shoulder. “I’m good,” she murmurs, lips red and puffy from the work of her teeth, eyes blown dark and satisfied. “I’ll hold while you come for me.”

Bellamy groans at her words, watches as Clarke’s lips tip into another coy smile, but it’s all the reassurance he needs, and he picks up his pace again, lets himself fuck into her until the familiar pulses run down his spine and his body pulls hot and tight. His cock swells as he comes, spilling into her still fluttering cunt with a low and throaty groan, the feeling so fucking good it takes a long minute before he regains his senses again, but he does register the way Clarke begins to ease her leg from his shoulder, manages to open his eyes to see her bring it back to the ground, slow and controlled in a way that leaves him in awe.

“Incredible, princess,” he murmurs, smoothing a hand over her ass before running it down the length of her spine. “God, don’t know how you do it.”

She smiles at him over her shoulder again. “Dedication to fuck in every position I can,” she says, voice still slightly breathy, and he laughs roughly, already feeling the hot flickers of excitement at the thought of helping her with that.

“Good thing to be dedicated to,” he teases, pinching at her ass lightly, making her squeak out a surprised little sound that has him wanting to repeat the action, but then she’s shifting against him, and he notices the trembled strain of her arms. “Alright, princess,” he murmurs, getting his hands back on her hips properly, keeping her steady as he pulls out. She caves slightly, letting him take her weight, and he keeps ahold of her until she gets her legs back under her, pushes herself up and turns around to face him, a pleased little smile teasing her lips, one he can’t help but return. “Okay, I can definitely see the appeal of intentional nude yoga watching.”

Clarke grins, presses forward to catch his mouth in a long and hard kiss that already has the early simmering of hunger running through him again.

“Good,” she says against his lips, curling her hand in his and tugging him towards her bed, eyes lighting up with possibility. “Because there’s this variation of the lotus I’ve been wanting to try, Bell, and I really think you’re gonna like it.”


	5. Rivals office sex

“Fucking hurry up, will you.”

Bellamy chuckles, the sound low and rough as he leans forward to bite at the curve of Clarke’s neck, harder than he had been previously. He pauses the path of his hands — a purposeful reproach he knows will only frustrate her — lets them linger at the skirt of her dress, tightened in the fabric halfway up her thigh, and is gratified when she lets out a low and annoyed growl.

“ _Bellamy,_ ” she snaps, and his lips tug into a sharp smile along her skin, that familiar spark beginning to burn hot through him, at the knowledge that he’s getting to her.

He’s worked with Clarke long enough to recognise it as a victory.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, knowing the implication will only annoy her further — that she’s impatient for _him_ — but he begins moving again before she can retaliate, throw back a number of taunts he’s sure she has at her disposal.

He continues sliding the skirt up, eyes fixated on the way the vibrant red shifts to reveal smooth, creamy thighs, until it’s bunched up over her ass, the perfect curve covered in a pair of nude lacy panties. His cock twitches at the sight, and he can’t help but move his hands over the soft globes, giving her a nice squeeze.

“Lucky panties?” He asks, and doesn’t even have to wait a full second before Clarke’s glaring at him over her shoulder.

“I don’t need _luck_ ,” she scoffs, eyes lighting up in that way he’ll never admit he loves, all fire and confidence. “ _When_ I get the position, it’ll be because I earned it. Not because of nepotism or favours or _panties._ ”

Bellamy chuckles, ignoring the way the reminder of the impending end of their rivalry tightens something sharp in his chest, and curls his fingers over the edge of the lacy material. “And when _I_ get the position, it’ll be because you denounced the sacredness of lucky panties.”

Her lips twitch, but she looks back forward before he can see it break into a proper smile. “Not because you earned it?” She asks, and he can hear the amusement she’s trying to tamp down in her voice.

“Maybe that too.”

He’s tugging the panties down her legs only a moment later, enjoying the sharp exhale he hears when his hands come back to rest on Clarke’s bare ass, giving her another rough squeeze before he moves them to her hips, turning her around to face him. Her eyes are blown dark and wanting, lips still red and worked from their earlier kiss, and Bellamy's grip tightens on her as he eases her back onto her office desk, pressing himself between her thighs. 

She watches with shallow breaths as he lifts a hand to her neck, slides it along the smooth curve to her shoulder and pulls down the strap of her dress, before repeating the action on her other side. Another tug to bring the tight fabric down from her chest, and Bellamy has to swallow hard at the sight of her breasts,soft but full, looking perfect in a pretty bra to match her panties, pink nipples poking through the nude lace.

“Such pretty tits, princess,” he murmurs, ducking down to press his mouth along the soft swells, and Clarke’s fingers curl tight in his hair, a sweet sting that has him grunting a little.

“A compliment from you?” she asks, voice breathy but amused. “Wow, you must really be hard up.”

Taking a nipple into his mouth, he gives it a light suck, feeling it stiffen through the lace. When she sucks in a breath, he grins again. “Mm, clearly _I’m_ the one that’s hard up,” he murmurs, sliding his hands up to the apex of her thighs, chuckling darkly when her pussy lips part and warm, slick arousal meets the press of his fingers. “So goddamn wet for me, princess. Your pussy is just aching for some release, huh?”

“Like your cock hasn’t been hard for the past ten minutes because of me,” she says, a little snappish even as he brings his fingers to her clit, feeling her hot and throbbing under his touch. She whines, head tipping back for a moment, but when she meets his gaze again, there’s a challenge flickering behind the hooded desire. “Like your cock hasn’t been hard for the past _six years_ because of me.”

The words land as he knows Clarke intended, and Bellamy hears himself growl low and rough as the hand still on her thigh tightens hard on her skin, as he pulls back from laving at her chest. Her smile tilts to a smirk, her eyes flashing almost dangerously, and he swallows hard at her expression, knowing she’s not just trying to get a rise from him.

No, it’s clear that Clarke’s always known the effect she’s had on him.

Six years working together, first as a junior- and then senior-associates, competing for each case, for each moment of praised acknowledgement from their superiors, pushing each other to work harder and smarter and better — and she’s always known exactly what she’s been doing to him. All the heated arguments and the sharp comments and the cocky smiles that have had his hands tightening to fists with the effort not to touch her, his mouth aching from the desire to taste her, the thrill of having someone to go head-to-head with fanning the flame of want low in his gut.

Tension’s been wrapping itself thick around them for years, building and building and building until it was inevitable to break, and after interviewing for the same promotion only a couple of hours earlier — the final round of a six year long rivalry, an ultimate winner soon to be announced — it’s no surprise that it’s happened back in her office tonight.

Clarke revealing to him now that she’s always known only makes it better, because it’s an acknowledgement — a cocky taunt that tells him that she’s always felt it too, that she’s purposefully teased Bellamy for _years_ , and thrilled because of it.

He feels that same thrill spread hot and heavy through him now, and he knows exactly how he wants to torture Clarke with it. In the long game that’s always been about gaining the upper hand, getting her to submit to him will be nothing short of winning.

Making himself concede the point, Bellamy’s head tips in acknowledgement as he lets out a rough laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, princess,” he says, enjoying the brief surprise that sweeps over her face. He starts moving his fingers again, and her expression quickly shifts into something needy as he begins teasing her clit. “You don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to shut you up this way.”

“Fucking asshole,” she mutters, eyes flashing in a way he’s all too used to, but the weight of her words don’t hit hard, not when she curls her legs around his hips, pulling him in closer, getting him pressed right between her thighs, until the hand still on her pussy is the only thing keeping her from feeling the hardness of his cock against her. “Now, as I said earlier: please, fucking hurry up.”

He laughs again, but this time he shakes his head, sliding his fingers down from her clit to instead tease the entrance of her cunt. “ _So_ impatient,” he murmurs, watching with a satisfied smirk as he presses two fingers into her, feeling her warm and tight around him, so perfect he almost considers forgetting his plan and allowing himself to feel that perfection around his cock immediately.

But with the breathy whine she releases, he knows he can’t.

He brings up his free hand, pressing it against Clarke’s shoulder lightly. “Lie back for me,” he asks, unsurprised to see the hazy desire that’s been pooling in her eyes snap back into sharp clarity as she realises what he wants to do.

“You said you wanted to fuck me,” she grinds out, words somewhere between frustrated and needy, and it’s easy to read the slight waver there. She doesn’t want to give up even an ounce of power to him, put herself in any position of vulnerability in front of him.

But after her little flare of dominance earlier, that’s exactly what Bellamy wants.

“And I do,” he assures, easing his fingers from her and shifting his hips forward instead. Her eyes drop, darkening at the sight of him hard beneath his trousers, and he waits until she meets his gaze again before continuing, voice rough and a little desperate. “But first I want to taste you.”

Her throat works on a hard swallow, and Bellamy’s quick to lean in, press his mouth over the point. He feels the way Clarke melts into his touch immediately, and he continues his path down the column of her neck, to her collarbone and then chest, Clarke’s hand coming up after only a few long seconds to curl tight in his hair, gain herself a little more control. It’s an easy thing to concede, especially as she begins easing herself down onto the desk, leaning back on an elbow as she uses her other hand to guide him down her body, to where her thighs are pressed apart and her pussy’s bare and wanting.

Eyes flicking up, he catches Clarke’s gaze, holds it as he spreads her pussy lips apart with a hand, leans down to press a kiss right on her clit.

When she whines, head tipping back as her fingers tighten in his hair, he can’t help but grin, something dark and triumphant. He knows she’s too proud to actually say it, but it’s all the reassurance he needs that this is what she wants, and as he settles himself in properly, easing a thigh over his shoulder so she’s bare and open for him, he’s extremely grateful she’s let herself have it, let _him_ be the one to give it to her.

Her pussy is flushed a gorgeous pink and slick with arousal, and Bellamy only hesitates a moment before he’s leaning forward and taking a long, slow lick of her, groaning at the heady taste that meets his tongue. Clarke muffles a soft whine in response, hips shifting seemingly involuntarily to meet his touch, and he presses an arm over her hips, keeping her steady as he uses that hand to open her up for him properly, move in to meet her again.

Because _fuck_ if she’s not one of the best things he’s ever tasted before.

He settles in, letting himself indulge in her for a few minutes, kissing at the lips of her pussy, licking long sweeps between them, enjoying the way she tries to hide her pleasure as he winds her up slow and sweet — the soft, pleased noises she’s attempting to hold back and the shaky breaths she’s struggling to control. But each teasing circle of his tongue on her clit and every dip into the warm pool of her cunt has her growing more desperate, has her self-control ebbing, and it doesn’t take long until the last of her facade has shattered and she’s trying to grind against his mouth, trying to tug him impossibly closer.

“More,” she whines, and Bellamy feels the plea all over. He knows she wouldn’t give that word up easily, and the slight submission is more than enough to reward.

Sliding his free hand back up to her cunt, he shifts his mouth higher again, hovering just over her clit while his fingers dip back into her. She still feels fucking perfect, and Bellamy groans as her cunt clenches hot and tight and she cries out softly, sliding his fingers into her and curling to hit the sweet spot inside of her, one that has her hips jerking into him.

“Needy, princess,” he murmurs, smirking when Clarke’s head tips back up and she meets his gaze, eyes flashing with a mixture of annoyance and desire. But he doesn’t give her a chance to shoot back a snarky response, instead dipping his head to latch his mouth over her clit, pulling the nub between his lips and sucking.

This cry is much louder, and he lets the sound urge him on, beginning to finger fuck her in earnest as his mouth plays with her clit, flicking and sucking and nibbling. Her cunt pulses tighter as he continues to wind her up, and words start spilling from her mouth quickly, the breathy _more_ s and _harder_ s and _please, Bellamy, please_ s only furthering his desperation to get her there. He does as she asks, follows her pleas until he knows she’s right there, only a moment away from breaking, and he quickens his fingers, releases her from his mouth for only the second it takes to tell her to come for him.

And when he sucks her clit back into his mouth, flicks it over and over with his tongue while his fingers continue to pump quick and hard in her pussy, she does.

Cunt clenching, thighs trembling, back arching, Clarke comes hard with a long cry of his name, and Bellamy sweeps his eyes over her the best he can in his position, drinking in the moment as he works her through it, until she’s sagging back onto the desk, breathing hard as she pushes him away weakly.

He presses a final, light kiss to her clit, not wanting to linger when he knows she’ll be sensitive, and eases his fingers from her cunt, catching her hooded gaze as he stands and sucks them clean. Her smile is dazed and satisfied as she comes back down, and something warm and triumphant tightens through him at the sight, seeing her soft and sated because of him.

“Now, it sounded like you wanted me to fuck you earlier,” Bellamy says after a long moment, and Clarke breathes out a laugh, sitting back up in front of him in only a second, expression clearing a little to reveal that defiant edge he’s so familiar with.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening,” she says, voice resolved as she presses a hand to his chest, urges him back so she can slide off her desk and push him down into her chair. “No, _first_ , you’re going to sit back while I take you in my mouth,” she explains, quickly dropping to her knees in front of him, hands moving to work at the button of his pants. “Then I’m going to take you home — and _I’m_ going to ride _you_.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy mutters, watching as Clarke slides a hand beneath his pants, gives his cock a nice firm squeeze over his briefs.

“Yeah, precisely,” she says with a smirk, meeting his gaze with that familiar spark of determination. _Another day, another competition._ “You’re the one about to get fucked, Bellamy. Not me.”

His head tips back with a rough laugh, her words a reminder of the reality of their impossible situation, and he knows she’s right.

He’s absolutely fucked.


	6. Pegging

“God, you look so good under me,” Clarke murmurs, voice soft and loving as she runs her hands down Bellamy’s sides, his broad chest narrowing to the hard ridges of his hips. She smoothes her thumbs over him, enjoying the way his cock twitches a little in response, but she doesn’t lean forward to wrap her lips around the thick head like she normally would, instead easing her palms around to his backside, catching his eye with a coy smile. “Lift up for me, yeah, babe?”

He does as she asks, gaze heavy on her as he raises his hips, and Clarke meets the familiar firmness of his ass quickly, giving him a nice, small squeeze as soon as she’s able to. It’s just a teasing touch, but it’s all it takes for Bellamy’s eyes to flash, an edge of anticipation gleaming as she grins a little wickedly, sliding two firm pillows beneath him to get his hips perched nice and high for her.

“Perfect, baby” she tells him, shifting back and giving herself a moment to just drink him in.

Stretched out in front of her on their bed, all warm, golden skin and hard, smooth muscle, completely naked for her. His cock hard and thick where it’s curved up towards his stomach. His ass raised on a pillow and his legs bent on either side of her, knees pointed to the ceiling; a cradle of space created just for her.

“Funny,” he says after a moment, voice not much more than a rough growl as his own eyes do a slow sweep of her body, lingering at the apex of her thighs. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

She can’t help but follow his gaze, an odd, warm flush of arousal spreading through her at the sight of herself, dark straps of a harness crossing over her hips, a black dildo fixed into it and sticking out over the mound of her cunt, slicked up with lube.

Clarke’s no stranger to strap ons, but it’s been a while since she’s worn one, and seeing herself in the special attire again is strangely thrilling, a warmth pooling in her gut that makes her feel sexy and powerful. Similar to the headiness that’s come previously, but with an additional flicker of anticipation. Because she’s only ever fucked pussy before. She’s never worn this for _Bellamy_ — let alone with the intention of _fucking him_ with it.

And god, there’s something exhilarating about that, a role reversal she’s really not used to. Whenever she’s normally aching for some control, she’ll just push him back and straddle his hips, make him watch her ride his cock, or maybe drop to her knees and take him in her mouth, have him lose himself to the feel of her tongue and lips around him.

But this is a different kind of control, a different kind of power.

She’ll be fucking him. _Truly_ fucking him. In the ass.

It’s something they eased into, starting with a conversation, just like they had when Clarke first wanted to try anal, and then building up to it, first with fingers and then later with toys, until they both felt comfortable going the whole way with a strap on.

And even today, they’ve gone slow, indulging in each other, drawing everything out. Bellamy’s already gotten her off twice, and Clarke would worry he was stalling if she didn’t know how much he loved tasting her cunt, is she didn’t know how much watching her as she shuddered and gasped in his arms turned him on. By the time she started properly teasing him, running her hands over the firm curve of his ass and letting her fingers press into him, he was relaxed and aching under her touch, letting her in with only a rough groan of _more_.

And now, with the way he’s watching her, eyes dark and hooded with desire as he takes her in, in nothing but the harnessed cock she’s about to fuck him with, she can’t deny giving it to him.

“Yeah, baby?” She asks, shifting back properly between his thighs, pressing them up and outwards to ease their positions and better the angle. She wraps a hand around the base of the dildo, stroking it a few times for show. “You like me in this? Like me in a cock that’s about to fuck you?”

“Fuck, Clarke. It’s so hot, baby,” he says, his voice deep and rough as his eyes follow the movement. “God, can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

She bites back her pleased smile as she reaches for the bottle of lube again, taking the comment as encouragement to smooth some more where he’s aching for it, and a it’s only a few moment later that she’s pressing the tip of the dildo there, just some light pressure against him.

“Mm, me too,” she says, placing her free hand on his leg, giving herself a little leverage. She waits for him to catch her gaze again, needing to see the certainty in his eyes before continuing, and when he does, she smiles, softening the moment a bit — still desire and excited anticipation at its core, but a little sweeter around the edges too. “You ready, Bell?”

His voice is as sure as his expression. “Yeah, princess. I’m good.”

She lets his words sink into her, fill her up with both the reassurance she needs and the desire she aches with, and shifts her hips forward, pushing the first inch of her cock into him. The sharp breath he sucks in has her pausing, quick to run her hand down his thigh soothingly, murmur soft words to check in, but Bellamy relaxes after only a few moments, and when he asks her to keep going, she trusts him.

It’s slow and steady, the first thrust in, but thankfully Bellamy’s shock seems to be more about the unfamiliarity of being stretched in this way than anything else. Clarke was sure to be generous with the lube, both on the dildo and when she was working his ass with her fingers earlier, and as he relaxes around the new feeling, she’s able to slide in fully, until Bellamy’s fingers are curled tight in the sheets beneath them and Clarke’s harness-covered cunt is pressed right up against his ass.

“So good,” she says, running her hands up and down his thighs as her gaze focuses on where they’re connected, where she’s filling him up completely. “So good taking me like that, baby.”

He lets out a sort of strangled laugh, and when she flicks her eyes back up to him, his head’s tipped back and his jaw’s a little slack, the familiar drawn expression of pleasure on his face sending a heady thrill through her. “Fuck, you just bumped against my—” He doesn’t manage to finish the sentence, but he doesn’t need to; she can guess. Instead, he looks back up at her with an intensity Clarke never tires to see — the kind that belies his desperation for her and only her — and speaks with rough, needy words. “Keep going, princess. Fuck, please, baby.”

A new wave of hot longing and eagerness surges through her, the weight of her own desire almost overwhelming her — the need to make this good for him, to have him come hard and fast because of her — and she pulls out before rolling her hips back in, the sound of Bellamy’s low moan only fanning the flames of her desire further.

“Let me watch you jerk your cock, baby,” she says, reaching forward to wrap her hand around his hard length, feeling him thick and throbbing as she strokes him a few teasing times. He replaces her touch as soon as she repositions her hands back on his thighs and fucks into him again, and she sees the way his grip tightens on his cock at the feeling. “Yeah, Bell, just like that,” she assures, easing into a rhythm he looks comfortable with, looks fucking _overcome_ with. “You take care of your cock, and I’ll take care of you with mine.”

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts, already giving himself quick and firm strokes to match her thrusts, and Clarke feels the sharp, pleased smile that tugs at her mouth in response.

It builds quicker than she expected, her impatience met easily by Bellamy’s growing pleasure, his growing desperation. She starts to fuck into him faster, harder, finding the right position and the right angle with the help of his panted praise, each stroke soon dragging against his prostate and making him greedy for it, making him lose himself more and more to the feel of her fucking him.

It’s not long before she recognises the rough and hard way his hand works his cock, the intensity of pleasure that creases his expression, and when she knows he’s chasing the final moments to release, she stops pulling out fully, instead rocking her hips to let the head of her cock bump right where he needs. Again and again and again in time with each stroke of his cock, until his body’s pulling tight and he’s groaning low and rough, cock swelling in the strong grip of his hand as thick ropes of cum spill out onto his chest and stomach.

“That’s it, baby,” Clarke murmurs, mesmerised by the sight of him, so utterly consumed by his own pleasure. “God, so fucking gorgeous, Bell.”

She slows her movements, running her hands over Bellamy’s legs and talking him down with soothing words, until his heavy gasps have eased into softer breaths and he’s relaxed enough that she can pull out. She unclasps the harness and slips it off, knowing it won’t be long before she’s strapping it on again, but when she stretches out beside Bellamy after cleaning him up with a tissue, it’s all skin on skin, nothing between them as she nuzzles her face into his neck, lays herself half over him.

His arms follow quickly, tugging her in and holding her against his warmth, and she feels the slight pressure of his lips against her hair.

“You right?” She asks, pulling back only enough to look at him, unable to hide her smile when Bellamy just laughs, a little fucked out and a little disbelieving.

“Yeah, princess, I’m good,” he assures roughly, tilting her chin up to press a long kiss to her lips, something firm and sharp that has her wanting to feel that mouth where she’s wet and aching — but they’ve got time. “Fucking great. You were incredible, baby, really.”

Clarke hums, warming under his praise like she always does. “I’m glad, Bell,” she says, letting her hand trail over his hip, squeeze it teasingly at the side of his ass as best she can. “Because I really think I’ll want to be fucking this pretty ass quite a lot now.”

Bellamy just laughs, his sated smile pressing against her forehead. “Just as long as I get to fuck yours too, princess.”


	7. Exhibitionism I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a gym prompt resulting from bell being thicc as hell in s5, so i added a bit of exhibitionism, just because

“Alright, give me ten more.”

Clarke huffs, glaring up at the man looming above her. He doesn’t seem at all affected by her anger, simply raises an eyebrow with the clear expectation that she’ll follow his orders.

She will, but she’s still going to be angry about it.

“I fucking hate you,” Clarke mutters, lowering her back onto the ground before moving up into a crunch, throwing the medicine ball to the infuriating man, before receiving it again only a moment later, repeating the action as he counts her out.

Honestly, joining the gym at her college campus was probably the silliest thing Clarke’s done all year. But when her kick boxing instructor Anya mentioned there was a cheap promotion which included a number of sessions with a personal trainer, she’d gotten sucked in in the same way people joining post-New Year’s did — with aspirations bigger than what she actually wanted to work for. Because while she was more than happy to swing a few punches and practice her high kicks on a punching bag — _jogging?_ Doing lunges and squats and sit ups all in the presence of a much fitter person who she was actually _paying_? Yeah, it was pretty much hell.

The only reason she hadn’t quit yet was because of who that person was.

Bellamy Blake: TA of her third year history elective and simultaneous bane of her existence.

Yeah, he just happened to be the personal trainer assigned to her, and the sparring relationship they had in an academic setting had easily transferred to their time at the gym.

Which meant that there was no way in hell she’d give him the satisfaction of quitting.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the way he looked beneath the nice shirt and fitted trousers he usually wore during lectures and tutes. Not the realisation that outside of class, Bellamy Blake was fucking _thick._ Not the lean kind of ripped she saw a lot around the gym, nor the body builder type either, but a happy medium instead — big and bulky. A broad, hard chest and well-defined shoulders. Beefed up arms, nice, solid thighs, and a firm, rounded ass. Strong and stocky in a way that was a little exhilarating.

Not that she’d ever allude to the fact — especially not today, when he’s feeling particularly like torturing her.

By the time she reaches ten, her arms are aching and her stomach is stinging, and she collapses back onto the floor with a long huff. Her face feels flushed, and her heart is beating hard and fast in her chest, but she’s been doing this long enough to expect it when Bellamy taps at her foot only twenty seconds later. Apparently he likes moving between exercises quickly.

“Come on,” he says, voice deep and rough like it always is, but she thinks there’s a hint of amusement there too — most likely at her expense. “Lunges now, princess. With weights.”

Clarke curses, glaring at him as she struggles to sit up. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps, not for the first time, ignoring the hand he offers and instead getting to her feet herself.

She gets into position with a dumbbell in each hand, lowering herself into the first lunge, biting back a snarky comment as Bellamy keeps a critical eye on her, watching her form. It’s literally what she’s paying him for, and yet it still makes her want to snap at him, too aware of the tension that’s tightening through her at the weight of his gaze — the slight self consciousness that prickles at her from being so openly on display.

He surprises her now, though, when he watches her get through fifteen lunges on one leg before transitioning smoothly to the other. His lips tip up into a smile, and his eyes find hers.

“Your form is improving,” he comments, gaze flicking back as though to make sure she doesn’t waver now that he’s given her some praise. “And so’s your strength. Your first session, you were complaining a lot more a lot earlier.”

Clarke huffs a laugh, unsurprised that the compliment still came with some sass. “Maybe I’ve just learnt you don’t respond to any of the normal human emotions one expresses when working out.”

Bellamy snorts, genuine amusement flicking over his expression. “It just takes me a few sessions to work out what motivates people, princess.”

She finishes up with the fifteen on her other leg, dropping the weights before stepping forward to him. She matches his stance, crossing her arms over her chest, and is gratified to see the way his eyes dip quickly to her cleavage — a little slip up to his usual control.

“Yeah?” She asks. “And what do you think will motivate me?” She can’t be imagining the way his eyes darken slightly at her baiting, his gaze doing a quick sweep of her body, and a warm thrill curls through her chest, makes her feel suddenly bold, wanting to get a rise from him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he says, voice dropped a little rougher that earlier, a rich quality about it too. “But for now, your hour is almost up, and you need to stretch out for the last five.”

She doesn’t press him on the dodge like she normally would, but it’s only because the idea of stretching actually sounds really fucking good at the moment. It’s been the most bearable part of their sessions so far, and that’s saying something, because even stretching with Bellamy isn’t easy. But after a month, she can actually recognise her improvement — she’s a little stronger and a little more flexible than before, and this time, when he coaches her through each pose and stretch, it isn’t quite so torturous. Instead, she’s actually able to enjoy his help, the way he pulls and pushes at her where appropriate, easing the slight burn of her muscles stretching after a solid workout.

She’s actually able to enjoy the heavy press of his hands on her body, the way his breaths go a little shallow whenever he shifts closer to her, the light smell of sweat glistening his skin.

“There’re two I’m tossing up between.”

“Huh?” Clarke asks, lost for a moment in her own daze of drinking in his body, the shift of muscle beneath his warm, golden skin. God, he’s so much _bigger_ than she is. She wonders what he’d feel like pressed right up against her.

“Two things that could motivate you,” Bellamy clarifies, and when she catches his eyes she realises all at once that he’s caught her staring at him.

“Okay, hit me,” she says, not letting herself overthink it. Instead she simply follows his movements as he begins stretching out his arms, the last few positions of their usual routine.

“The first is more lenience for your grades. Pushing a B+ to an A-.”

She considers, but only for a moment. “No way, you’d never give up your integrity.”

His lips twitch, but he nods his head in concession. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t do that, but I do think it’d motivate you.”

She thinks about the class and knows he’s right. She’s all for earning an honest grade, but in a subject run by the bigoted Cage Wallace, any extra help she can get is probably needed. But she’s honestly a lot more interested in learning what his other hypothetical motivation technique is.

“That’s probably fair. What else?” She asks, and she sees the way Bellamy’s throat works, his eyes going a little hooded as he gives her another slow sweep.

“Orgasms,” he says after a long beat, and somehow, Clarke manages not to choke.

Instead, she feels herself flush, this time for completely non-workout reasons, the earlier thrill that curled hot in her chest growing and spreading throughout her body. “You’re saying this could be a way to motivate me… next time?”

Bellamy shrugs, but keeps his gaze hot and intense on her. “I think you’d respond well to positive reinforcement,” he explains in a deep rumble. “Getting something you want when you do something that’s asked of you. You’ll push yourself more that way.”

“And, so what… the last month, I’ve just been doing all this crap for _nothing_?”

He arches a brow, dropping his arms and letting them fall loose at his sides. And then he steps forward, forcing Clarke to step back — into a private nook of space around a corner of the gym. She hadn’t realised it earlier, but the place is basically cleared out now, so close to closing time. Still, the thought of someone rounding the space and catching this little moment makes her heart beat hard in her chest.

“Why, princess, are you saying you’re owed orgasms?” Bellamy asks, continuing his slow, measured steps until Clarke’s backed up against a wall.

“Well, I mean, if you think that’s what’s going to motivate me.”

Bellamy laughs, this time low and rough. Then his hands meet her waist, his hips pin hard against hers, and she feels the warmth of his solid body spread through her. “It’ll at least allow me to stretch you out a little better.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond, crowding her back against the wall to catch her mouth only a second later, kissing her hard and fast and _so fucking good_. She moans instantly, opening up to the press of his tongue and meeting him with the rough and demanding slide of his lips, letting a month’s worth of tension unravel and pour into the kiss as he presses himself even closer.

And _fuck,_ he’s hard at every single point against her, huge, strong hands gripped tight at her waist, chest solid and firm against her own, and she can’t deny that it’s a little exhilarating, the knowledge that he could so easily overpower her.

His hands come to the edge of her gym shorts, and when he pulls back from the kiss she watches with bated breath as the rough pads of his fingers skirt the soft skin at her hips, before he starts tugging them down to the floor, along with her panties.

“Here?” She breathes out, though the possibility sends a hot pulse of excitement through her, not the trepidation it probably should.

He squats down, eyes fixed on her as he guides each of her legs out of the constraints of clothing. “Didn’t think you’d want me pulling you into one of the shower stalls,” he says, rising back again to press her hard against the turned in wall. “And to achieve the best positive reinforcement possible, I think you’ll need to relate the orgasms to the gym.” He leans forward, bites at her jaw before moving his mouth hot up against her ear. “Can’t just take you home and fuck you good and hard in your bed, princess.”

She swallows hard, feeling herself flush even further at the utter desire dripping in Bellamy’s voice. His rough hands grip her again, this time along the backs of her thighs, and it’d almost be amusing how easily he picks her up and pins her against the wall, if she weren’t so wrapped up in how incredibly turned on she is.

Managing to balance her with one hand, he uses the other to slip into his own shorts, pull out his cock between them, and Clarke almost can’t breathe at the sight of it. Just like the rest of him, thick and hard and _gorgeous._

“Okay. Reward. Now.”

Bellamy chuckles, wrapping a hand around his cock and moving it between her soaked pussy lips, groaning when he feels how wet she already is for him. She moves her hands to rest on his shoulders, and then he’s pressing the thick headof his cock at the opening of her cunt, and she barely remembers to mention that she’s clean and on the pill before he’s fucking into her hard and fast, one quick shift of his hips that has her crying out.

When his hand meets her mouth, his eyes blazing with both heat and warning, she can only think to nod her assurance that it’s okay, that she likes it rough, but apparently it’s all Bellamy needs to fuck her how he wants — how they _both_ want.

It’s hard and fast and messy, his huge body pinning her helplessly against the wall as he thrusts into her, _again and again and again_ , and the possibility of getting caught in this little corner of theirs only heightens the need. An electric sort of anticipation joins the sharp pleasure that pulses through her each time Bellamy’s cock hits her just right, adds to the intoxicating feel of him pressed big and strong against her smaller frame, and it’s lucky he’s prepared with a hand over her mouth, because soon he’s stifling all her needy sounds, letting her use him to bite at and lick as the pleasure builds and she loses control.

Which doesn’t take long at all, not after the month they’ve spent with tension growing thick between them, not when Bellamy’s cock feels so deliciously good pumping in her cunt, not with the urgency that thrums because really, anyone could find them like this, if they just went looking.

When she does break, he’s ready for her, pressing forward the moment she starts coming to taste the cry of his name that would’ve been lost to him palm, kissing her hard and rough as he fucks her the same way, a flood of hot release rushing through her. Her thighs tremble around his waist and her back arches against the wall and her fingers curl tight over his shoulders, making him grunt lowly, but he doesn’t seem to mind, pumping into her for only half a minute more before he tenses himself, his weight pressing hard against her as his cock swells in her still pulsing cunt and he spills himself into her, mouth dropping to her neck on a quiet groan.

It’s a few cloudy, blissed moments before she comes down, finding them both still breathing hard, the delicious heaviness of Bellamy’s weight pressing against her like a tether to the moment, and when he does finally begin to pull back Clarke almost tugs him in again, before she remembers to stop herself.

“How’s that for positive reinforcement?” He says, voice rough but with clear satisfaction running through it, and Clarke laughs, head tipping forward to land on his shoulder, enjoying the hard curve of his muscles there.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, smiling a little. “Definitely seems like something that could work for me.”


	8. Pregnancy/baby verse II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of chapter 2 of this series, but you don't really need to read that if you don't want

“Babe, you gotta stop looking at me like that.”

Bellamy smiles, not breaking the sweep of his gaze despite Clarke’s murmured words, his eyes lingering high on her thighs, just where her tiny pair of boyshorts begin. “I’m just drinking you in,” he says simply, mouth tugging higher at Clarke’s soft huff of laughter. He flicks his gaze up to meet hers, her expression just as he expected, that sleepy-fond one she gets when they get to spend a lazy morning in bed together — but with an early heaviness he recognises too, one that has heat curling nice and slow through him. “Didn’t think you’d mind so much.”

Her smile is amused, indulgent. “You know I don’t mind,” she says, rolling her eyes as she yawns, stretching out in front of him, one of her arms coming out his way. “You also know that’s not what I meant.”

“Ah,” Bellamy murmurs, catching her hand between his own and bringing it to his mouth. Just a soft press of his lips against her skin, but he can see the way Clarke’s eyes darken slightly, with the early, light thrum of anticipation. “You mean you don’t want me _just_ looking at you like that.”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, a little breathy as she gets back into her usual position in bed, curled up on her side, facing him in his mirrored spot.

He doesn’t bother pushing her on the obvious lie, just laughs instead, kissing her palm before letting go of her hand, settling back in to continue his slow, indulgent perusal of her. Along the soft press of her thighs and over the smooth curve of her hips.

To the large, bare swell of her eight month pregnant belly.

As always, the sight of it makes his heart quicken and his skin warm all over, a surge of love met with the heady weight of desire, and he can’t help but reach out earlier than he was intending, place a hand on the large bump. He runs it over her, the familiar heaviness of her stomach only furthering the feeling, a weighted tension curling low in his gut, something deep and almost possessive filling him up as the sight of her, the feel of her — of _his_ baby inside of her.

“Love feeling this big belly,” he murmurs roughly, smoothing over her stretched skin with a gentle hand, and when Clarke hums in response, he looks up to find her watching him closely, bottom lip tugged between her teeth as she tries to hide a coy smile. It makes him smile too, a little more sharply though, at the knowledge that she’s already affected by his touch. “Mm, you love it too, huh?” He asks, edging himself closer. “Love me touching you here? Where you’re looking after our baby?”

The breath she releases is shaky, her voice just as much. “You know I do,” Clarke says, placing her hand over his, guiding it to the upside of her belly, where her camisole is bunched up below her breasts. “I love you touching me everywhere.”

“Mm? And you want my hands on your tits, don’t you, baby?”

She doesn’t hesitate for even a second, gaze a little hooded and voice low and silky. “Please, Bell.”

And sounding like that, looking the way she does, it’s impossible not to give her exactly what she wants. Bellamy slides his hand up to her chest, giving her a little squeeze, careful to be gentle now that she’s more sensitive, and when Clarke lets out a quiet moan at his touch, he can’t help but smirk, continue up to the strap of her singlet and edge it down as best he can. Thankfully, Clarke’s feeling helpful — or maybe just a little too needy to be bratty like she sometimes is — because it’s only a moment later that she’s shifting herself up and tugging the cami off instead, before easing her panties down and off her legs, relaxing back into her previous position as soon as the little clothing she had on is free.

And _god,_ it doesn’t matter how familiar he is with the sight of Clarke completely bare, it’ll never fail to tug at something hot and deep within him, tighten every single point of him he wishes was touching her. Especially now, with the way her body’s changed throughout her pregnancy. Each month her belly getting bigger, stretch marks rippling her skin pink and purple over the parts of her that have grown, her breasts swelling up, the usual generous globes now heavier, nipples flushed a darker pink, thicker and puffier.

She’s always been gorgeous, Bellamy loving every single inch of her, worshipping her the way she deserves — but he can’t deny there’s something thrilling about the way her body’s changed these past eight months. _Because of them._ Growing the life they created together.

“What did I say about you looking at me like that?”

Bellamy husks out a laugh, but can’t manage a proper response to the teasing. “So fucking beautiful, baby,” is what he says, awe easing the rough edges of his voice, and when his eyes flick up to Clarke’s face, it’s to an expression of absolute _want._ Dark eyes and flushed skin, a certain crease of need he recognises so clearly.

It’s impossible not to indulge in it, and so he leans forward, taking one of her nipples between his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Clarke cries out softly as he gives her gentle sucks, fingers curling tight into his hair to keep him where he is, and Bellamy just drinks her in, teasing her with his mouth until he feels the fat nub stiffen into a nice peak under his tongue, moving to repeat his actions on her other nipple. Breathy whines and murmured husks of his name fill the space between them, and it’s not long before Bellamy feels Clarke shifting her hand, watches as she gives herself what she needs — two fingers dipping into the pool of arousal at her cunt before moving up to rub at her clit.

“So needy, princess,” he murmurs, not at all surprised as he watches her play with herself; her tits have always been sensitive, and being pregnant has only increased that.

“Well you were making my pussy all hot and desperate,” she whines unabashedly, and it’s her words as much as the sight of her working her cunt that has his cock twitching beneath his briefs, already half hard just from the press of his mouth to her skin.

“Yeah? Wanna roll over, I can give it what it wants? Fuck you from behind?”

Clarke’s sigh is all delighted excitement. “You know I love being fucked when I can still lie down,” she says, a pleased smile tugging at her lips as she slips her fingers from her cunt, offers them to him with an expectant smile.

He holds her gaze as he leans forward, sucks her fingers into his mouth just as he did her nipple, her arousal heavy on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good, baby,” he says, licking her fingers clean as she watches with hooded eyes. “I’ll never get sick of it.”

Clarke tugs at her bottom lip. “I’ll take that as agreement that you’ll fuck me with your tongue later.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says with a laugh, mind already sparking with thoughts of Clarke on her back, Bellamy burying his face in her cunt and kissing her there until she screams. “But now my cock. Come on, on your other side.”

She shifts with a small huff of effort, and he helps ease her over with a guiding hand, closing the space between them once she’s settled back down and he’s kicked his briefs off, until he’s spooning her from behind, curled up around her at every point. She arches into him, wriggling her ass deliciously against his cock, and Bellamy’s groan is rough as he feels himself stiffen even further, the light thrum of want heightening into a proper ache for release.

Which of course would’ve been Clarke’s goal.

Bellamy grins, leaning forward to bite lightly at her neck. “Brat,” he murmurs fondly, soothing the spot with his tongue when Clarke just laughs unabashedly.

“Motivator,” she shoots back, shifting to look at him over her shoulder, a coy smile tugging at her lips. “Come on, Bell.” She presses her ass pointedly against him again, her voice going soft and silky. “Now your cock.”

He pulls back, shaking his head with a laugh, but of course he does as she asks, is never able to deny her — especially not now, pregnant and gorgeous and in the need of some release. He keeps his eyes on her as he wraps a hand at the base of his cock, giving himself a few slow strokes before guiding himself to the pretty lips of her pussy, gets to watch Clarke’s gaze turn hooded as he meets the warm, slick pool of arousal at the opening of her cunt, see the way her mouth falls open in a quiet cry as he pushes into her, pussy feeling like heaven around him.

“Fuck,” he groans, moving his hand to rest over Clarke’s hip as her head tilts back to land on her pillow. “Feel so good, baby. Always take my cock so fucking well.”

Her laugh isn’t much more than a breath as she places a hand on his, guides it over the large swell of her belly with a soft squeeze. “That much is obvious,” she murmurs, and the words send a hot sweep through him, a deep, primal sort of pride curling at his core, a desire to give her more of himself.

Shifting his hips, he gives in to the feeling, easing into a nice and steady rhythm. Nothing too fast or deep in this position, but neither of them mind, have both grown a greater appreciation for a slow and sensual fuck during the last trimester of Clarke’s pregnancy: shallow thrusts that don’t hit her where she’s too sensitive, the ease of her belly resting on the bed. 

He rocks into her gently, and she makes sweet, happy sounds in response, and it’s a slow sort of build, an intimacy there that runs into every movement, every touch. Bellamy’s mouth finding Clarke’s neck, tasting sweat as he kisses a path along the smooth expanse of her skin, Clarke’s hand sliding up to her breasts, giving herself the soft squeezes she enjoys, playing with her nipples until they peak under her fingers. Loving, shared kisses and the heat of praised words, the warmth of skin touching skin and the growing pleasure of his cock fucking into her pussy — it all trickles into a slow-burning need that grows and spreads, until desperation is hot and demanding between them.

Bellamy fucks into her more quickly, hand shifting from where he was smoothing over the curve of her belly to instead settle where they’re joined, getting two fingers on her clit and rubbing her the way he knows she loves, just how she was earlier — in quick, tight, circles that always get her over the edge.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Clarke whines, shuddering against him, and Bellamy noses at her jaw until she turns to tilts her head towards him again. “Bell, Bell, please, fuck—”

Catching her mouth with his own, he tastes the words that fall from her tongue, drinking them in as she’s wound up and up and up, until she finally breaks, head tilting back as she comes with a sharp cry.

She trembles against him, back arching, fingers curling tight, pussy clenching hot around him. “That’s it, baby,” Bellamy murmurs, working her through the rush of release with the press of his fingers, with his steady thrusts. “Come on my cock, princess, that’s it.”

“Bell, Bell, Bell,” she whines, all soft and throaty as she rides through it, and he chases the feeling it tugs from him, a desperation that curls tight at the base of his spine, picking up his pace to follow her.

“Feel so good, princess,” he grunts, trying to keep his eyes open so he can drink her all in, savour the moment. The perfect warmth of her against him, around him. The gorgeous sight of her body as she writhes in pleasure. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come, you feel too good.”

He barely registers the words of encouragement, the way Clarke looks over her shoulder again with an expression of utter bliss on her face, but apparently his body does, because it’s only one, two, three more thrusts before the familiar tightness runs down his spine, his cock swelling and his body going tense with pleasure as he spills himself into her, a long and low groan pressing into the crook of Clarke’s neck.

Her hand is over his when he comes back down, body sated but breathing hard, and it only takes him a moment to realise she’s pulled it from where he was playing with her clit to instead smooth over the large swell of her belly again, and then another to feel the movement there. His smile is wide and instant, a mixture of excitement and anticipation and nervousness easing him down from the sharp rush of release.

“I think we woke her up,” Clarke says, amusement clear in her voice as she tilts her head to look over at him, a soft, content smile tugging at her lips, and Bellamy laughs, leans in to kiss her slow and sweet.

“She’ll pay us back for it when she comes,” he assures her, pressing their hands against the little bump sticking out from Clarke’s belly, likely a tiny foot or elbow. “And until then, you’ll just have to keep waking up to me looking at you “like that”.”

Clarke’s laugh is soft and pleased. “There are worse ways to start the day.”


	9. Student/professor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS Basically don’t expect any context for this, because i’d need to write so many more words to do that justice. Also, there’s hardly any angst, in which there most certainly would be if written properly, bc lbr bellamy would be a ball of guilt, so let’s just pretend that blarke’s already talked through all of that in this verse. Okay? Okay.

“Sit back on the desk for me, princess?”

The words are murmured into her ear, followed by the press of lips trailing down the column of her neck, and Clarke lets out a soft and shaky breath as the familiar warmth sinks into her skin, sparking and stretching throughout her body. She does as asked, easing herself up onto the desk behind her, spreading her legs to create a cradle of space, and it’s filled immediately, a delicious weight settling against her parted thighs, a hardness she recognises at the apex.

“Bellamy,” she sighs, tilting her head to allow him better access, letting her hands drop and curl at his hips. “You promised no teasing.”

She can feel the sharpness of his smile on her skin. “I wouldn’t count this as teasing, princess. Last week, that was teasing, remember?”

Clarke feels herself go hot all over at the memory. _Oh, she remembers._ When he brought her home and buried his face between her legs for an hour, winding her up and up and up until she was _right there,_ before edging her back down again. Continuing the pattern until she was writhing against him, sobbing for release, before he finally gave in to her, making her come over and over on his mouth.

So he’s not wrong — there’s no way the slow and indulgent drag of his mouth on her skin is as torturous as that. But right now they’re on a deadline, which means there’s no time for even that. 

“Fifteen minutes until your next appointment,” she reminds, and he bites at the crook of her shoulder before shifting back to look at her, his eyes hooded, dark with both desire and the unspoken challenge.

“Alright, princess,” he says, the words a rough rumble that sends a shiver down her spine. “Up again, then, and face forward. I wanna fuck you from behind.”

Clarke bites at her lower lip to hide her coy smile. “Whatever you want, _professor._ ”

She eases herself back down, Bellamy’s gaze heavy on her as she turns around, leans forward on the familiar mahogany of his desk, and a hot and heady sort of anticipation curls at her core, at the stark reminder of where they are. The Greco-Roman texts filling his bookcase, the few photos that Clarke now knows are of his sister and mother, the various syllabi of subjects he teaches pinned up along his wall, notes scrawled on the pages now that it’s late into the semester. 

Numerous hours have been spent right here in Bellamy’s office over the last year, breaking down content, discussing overarching ideas and themes, even debating grades — but never like this. Never with the intention to indulge in a nice, quick fuck.

It’s one of the rules they agreed upon: never on campus. Never in his office.

That is, until today.

When she came in today, for her usual session after his hour-long lecture, Bellamy had locked his office door and tugged her in for a kiss immediately, the kind that told her he’d been waiting all through class just to taste her. And when they pulled apart, mouths red and breathing hard, a needy weight to their touch, there was no question that they were about to break their own rule.

Not that Clarke can really remember why that’s a bad thing, now.

She leans down onto her elbows, looks over her shoulder to find Bellamy’s eyes hot on her. “Well, Professor Blake, like what you see?”

Bellamy smirks, stepping forward until he’s pressed right up against her ass, and she has to hold back a gasp at the feel of him, hot and hard beneath his trousers. His hands find the skirt of her short, flimsy dress, flipping it up over her ass and onto her back, and Clarke watches with excitement as he takes her in, his jaw tightening and his throat working. “No panties, Miss Griffin?” He asks, low and almost wavering, and the sound of her name spoken like that, in that tone and that way, _by this man_ , makes her thrill inside. “That would certainly seem like a dress-code violation.”

“Lucky we’re not in high school,” she teases, a soft breath rushing from her the moment Bellamy’s hands find her skin again, palms sliding up the backs of her thighs. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

“It is,” he murmurs, continuing to trail his touch up to the apex of her thighs, until his fingers are only a breath from where she’s hot and aching. “But your dress is awfully short, princess. What if someone else saw this pretty pussy of yours?”

A single finger traces the lips of her cunt, and Clarke gasps, letting her head fall forward again. “Someone else?”

“Mm. I don’t want anyone else looking at it, or touching it.” He presses a finger past her folds, giving her a quick and teasing sweep along her slit. “Only me.”

His voice is low, almost possessive, and a burst of want runs through her, hot and quick. “Only you,” she agrees on a breath, shifting her hips to try and draw him in further, but apparently she doesn’t need to chase the feeling, not with her words of submission.

Something like a growl comes from Bellamy, his free hand finding her hip and gripping hard as his teasing one dips into her properly, the slick tightness of her pussy taking him in with ease. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he says, his appreciation clear as he begins fucking her on his fingers, a slow, curling drag just to start her off. “Always so wet for me, princess.”

Her laugh comes out closer to a moan. “You have no idea how much I wanted to play with myself during your lecture. When you came in with your hair all dishevelled, your shirt rolled up to your elbows.”

“Well, someone wore me out last night. Slipped out of bed early so they didn’t look the same way.”

She hides a pleased smile. She had left his place early this morning, before the sun was even up, but that’s another of their rules. “That extra time doesn’t really help if I go home and fuck myself with my vibrator until I pass out, though, does it?”

Bellamy stills. “You did?” He asks, voice like gravel, ignoring the way she whines in protest when he slips his fingers from her. “I didn’t wear you out enough last night, then?”

“You did,” she says, wriggling her ass at him, trying to entice his talented fingers back. “But that was last night. And since you were away at that conference last week, I just, I needed—” She huffs when he doesn’t give in to her, can hear the petulance in her own voice when she looks over her shoulder and pouts. “Bell, please.”

He laughs darkly. “Poor, needy princess,” he says, running a hand over the mound of her cunt. “Is this pretty pussy feeling neglected? Does it need my cock?”

Clarke nods, knows the sulkiness in her expression is shining as clear as her desire. “Please.”

“Such good manners, baby,” he praises with a laugh, hands moving to the front of his trousers, unfastening them as he keeps his dark gaze locked on hers. “Fifteen minutes, yeah?”

“Probably closer to ten, now.”

His grin is sharp, almost feral, and he pulls his cock free from his pants and briefs as she watches with bated breath, stifling a low grunt as he takes it in his hand and gives himself a few strokes. “I better be quick then.”

He’s sinking into her only a moment later, the thick head of his cock finding the slick warmth of her cunt before he shifts his hips quickly, and a soft whimper escapes her at the delicious intrusion. He always makes her feel so _full_ , so simultaneously needy yet completed, and it’s a feeling she’s become greedy for, ever since they started whatever this is.

She’s probably going to be pretty fucked to find it again, once he inevitably ends things, decides it’s not worth the hassle anymore.

But that’s an easy thought to push away now, when his cock is settled hot and heavy in her cunt, when they’re in the familiar space of his office, when there are other students, professors, staff, milling around the building just outside of his locked door. It’s not the desperate exhilaration that comes with the possibility of getting caught, but it’s a similar sort of thrill — the knowledge that they’re doing something they shouldn’t be, in his _office_ of all places, fanning the flames of their need.

It’s enough that Clarke can only think of one thing.

“I’m good,” she assures, wriggling her hips in encouragement as she offers Bellamy a flirty grin. “Come on. Fuck me, Professor Blake.”

He shakes his head with a low chuckle, the dark desire in his gaze lightening with amusement for a moment. “Fucking naughty thing,” he mutters, the words almost fond, but he does as she asks, settling into a familiar rhythm quickly, barely giving her a moment to catch her breath as he begins fucking her hard and fast — but she doesn’t mind, manages to shift her hips to meet his after the first perfect shock of it.

And then it becomes the best kind of desperate, the heady chase for release, the thick swell of tension as their bodies snap together over and over. His hands move to rest on her bare ass, fingers gripping tight and rough on her skin, the perfect sting of pain softened each time Bellamy’s cock hits her just right, and she slides her own down to her cunt, fingers playing with her clit again, hot and throbbing under her touch. 

“That’s it, princess,” Bellamy murmurs lowly, a greediness running through his voice, the kind he gets whenever he watches her touch herself. “Get yourself off just how you like, babe. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Fuck, Bell,” Clarke gasps, careful to be quiet even though the sensations filling her up feel too big for this room, the quick build of pleasure curling tight at her core and the sharp pulses hot at her clit. “You feel so good, babe. _Your cock fills me up so fucking good_.”

“Christ, the mouth on you.”

“Don’t act like you’re any better,” she manages to tease, but her words are barely more than a breath as it all becomes too much, as her body starts drawing tight, the early tingling of release simmering beneath her skin, ready to burst. “Bell, Bell, I’m gonna — I'm just —”

“Come for me, princess,” he says, commands, almost, the authoritative edge to his words sending a last jolt of heat through her, pushing her over the edge. 

She comes with a silent cry, body trembling as the familiar waves of release crash over her, have her pussy pulsing and her back arching and her fingers curling tight against the cool wood of Bellamy’s desk. His murmured praise sinks into the haze of her pleasure-filled mind, and she doesn’t even realise that she’s responding to it until Bellamy gives her a gentle reminder. 

“Gotta be quiet, princess,” he says, hands soothing over the curve of her ass as she's hit with aftershocks. “Can’t let anyone out there hearing you coming on my cock like this. Getting fucked like this. _By me._ ”

These words trickle in easier, fill her up just like everything else he does, joining the pleasure still rolling through her.“By you,” she agrees, softer this time, and she feels the shift in him at her words, the way his control wavers, his quick, steady thrusts becoming more urgent, his desperation finding its target.

She encourages him with the soft, hazy words her mind comes up with, loving the feel of him losing himself, fucking into her again and again and again, and she shifts to drink him in when he finally tenses, his cock pulsing hot in her cunt as he comes with a stifled groan.

“We should do that more often,” he says after a long moment, words rough between heavy breaths, and Clarke can’t help but giggle, grinning up at him.

“They’re your rules,” she reminds playfully, arching a brow. “I’d love to be in here every day of the week, indulging in all the stupid fantasies I have about fucking my art history professor.”

He barks out a laugh. “God, you’re a brat.”

“You love me that way,” she shoots back, and his gaze softens enough that her chest tightens with an emotion she doesn’t want to name. Clearing her throat, she change the subject. “Time?”

He watches her for another lingering beat before checking his watch. “Three minutes.”

“Better be quick then.”

And it is, their routine familiar by now, even in this new setting. The only difference is the window Bellamy opens after he’s passed her a tissue to clean herself up. 

“Smells like sex,” he explains lowly, and her laugh is quick, her smile tugging wide as she picks up the bag she dropped by his office door, tugs it over her shoulder again. “Coming over tonight?”

“Later, probably. I have an essay to finish on the history and cultural impact of queer art during the Roman Empire.” She shrugs, biting back a teasing smile. “Professor’s a bit of a hard ass, so I should probably try to get the first draft done before I head over.”

“Sounds like a pain,” Bellamy plays along, stepping into her space and ducking down to press a sweet kiss to her lips, a softness that almost feels out of place, has that feeling in her chest returning. “See you around nine, then?”

Clarke manages a smile, hand going to the lock on his door and flipping it. “Sure,” she says, because she’s absolutely a sucker for punishment, and wants to get as much of him as she can before this ends. “I’ll see you then, Professor.”


	10. Praise kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My likely single canonverse prompt, because it was for secret marriage (+praise kink) and i don't think i could've managed a modern au on that

“Feeling good, baby?”

Clarke smiles, the low hum of Bellamy’s voice tickling at her skin, sealed into it where he trails his mouth down her neck, over her collarbone, a lazy sort of intimacy he likes to indulge in after sex.

“Yeah,” she says, running her hand through his hair, the thick curls soft between her fingers. “I’m just thinking about today.”

“Yeah? You still feeling okay about it?” He doesn’t sound unsure of himself so much as just checking in, a gentle reminder that he’s here to listen, just as he always is.

“More than okay,” Clarke promises, tilting his chin up with her hand, leaning up to give him a soft, slow kiss, the kind that’s sparked only by the desire to feel his lips on hers. “I just feel — _happy._ Overwhelmingly so. And I think I’m still learning that it’s okay to feel that way. That we’re allowed to have things that are just for us.”

His smile is the best she’s ever seen, the look in his gaze so adoring it makes her chest ache. “It is something we need to remember, to re-learn. That it’s okay to be selfish, sometimes.”

She smiles too. “And if it’s selfish to get married without anyone else around, then so be it.”

Bellamy laughs. “Exactly.” He continues his path over her skin, lips trailing her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, as he speaks. “We can always have a proper ceremony and reception once we’re back home, if we want a larger celebration. But this afternoon? That’s ours, baby. Always.”

His words wash over her, a sense of rightness settling in her chest and spreading, a warm and delicate truth ringing through. No matter what happens, they’ll always have this afternoon, their time together, just the two of them — exchanging words of love and commitment, sealing them with the slow and loving press of their mouths.

“Always,” she agrees, saying the word like a promise, as though she can speak it into existence, but there’s something that’s still tugging at the back of her mind — one thought to darken the rest. And she wants to be honest with Bellamy, take him up on his reminder that she can be honest, let him in on the bad as well as the good. “I think what gets me is that I still sometimes think that I’m not—”

Bellamy stills, shifting back, all his focus on her. “Not what?”

She has to take a breath, draw on her courage to admit it. “Deserving of it,” she says, after a long beat of silence, the words heavy on her tongue. “Happiness, or peace, or even — _life_. After everything I’ve done, everything that’s happened, it feels like I’ve — like I’ve cheated fate, or something. Ending up here. With you.”

“Princess,” Bellamy murmurs, and the pet name has wetness swelling behind her eyes, inexplicably, a reminder of their early days together, back on an entirely different planet. He wipes at her cheeks when they fall, kisses the salt from her skin. “You are, without any doubt in my mind, deserving of this,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to take what you’re saying lightly, or pretend I don’t understand why you feel this way. Probably out of everyone I can recognise that guilt the most.” When he pulls back, it’s with all the warmth he’s got, a devotion written across his face she knows is reflected in her own soul. “But, baby, in my eyes, nobody has ever deserved anything more. Not in spite of your past, but because of it. You helped us survive long enough that we could be the people we wanted to again. And now, you deserve to feel everything good in this world.”

“This Earth-like, two-sun planet that Monty found for us?”

He lets her have the moment of levity, pressing his smile against hers. “Exactly,” he murmurs, pulling back from his position above her to instead settle by her side, tugging her to drape half over him. “New planet, new rules.”

She relaxes into the familiarity of his body as the words sink in, drawing away that cold feeling of doubt from the edges of happiness that today gave her, instead replacing it with something warmer, more seductive, and it’s an easy decision to give in to that one, let the feeling grow.

“Make me?” She asks, voice close to a whisper, despite them being the only people around for miles.

“Make you what, baby?”

Tilting her head, she looks up at him, warm, dark eyes meeting hers intently, and feels vulnerable in a way she hasn’t with Bellamy in so long. “Feel good,” she says, the words heavier than their simplicity would suggest, and he smiles, that soft, adoring one of his.

“Always,” he promises, leaning over to kiss her again, and this helps too; just like his words, drawing away the bad and replacing it with the good.

It starts off slow, Bellamy’s lips soft on hers, as they slide over each other again and again, until he opens them with a teasing bite to her lower lip, taking advantage of her quiet gasp to lick into her mouth. She lets him, kissing him back with the same warm sweep of her tongue, and it grows hungrier — not the kind of desperation that has them both moving more quickly, needing to fill an ache that burns hot and bright, but instead a greedy sort, to consume more of each other, to be indulgent, thorough.

Clarke’s fingers curl back in Bellamy’s hair, keeping him close to her, and his move to cradle her face gently, and it’s just several long minutes like that, exchanging long and loving kisses as a slower-burning desire wraps itself around them.

By the time Bellamy finally shifts — easing her onto her back and crawling back on top of her, mouth moving to again trail over her skin, down her throat, over the swells of her breasts — her lips feel worked in the best possible way, her lungs drawing back the breath he stole from her. A soft haziness trickles over her mind, the familiar hum of anticipation sparking at every point his skin touches hers, and Clarke feels the way she melts into it, knows that if Bellamy continued his path over the roundness of her stomach and to the growing wetness at her cunt, he’d kiss her there just as reverently as he had the rest of her body, revel in the opportunity to taste her as she came on his tongue.

It’s an exhilarating thought, one she wants to indulge in soon, but she knows without having to really think about it — it’s not what she needs right now.

Right now, she needs Bellamy closer than that.

Tightening her grip in his hair, she tugs him a little, enough that he tilts his head to meet her gaze.

“Stay up here?” She asks quietly, and as always, no explanation is needed, understanding filling Bellamy’s eyes immediately.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, crawling back up her body, giving her another proper kiss before he settles back next to her, pressed against her on his side this time. “Want my fingers, baby?”

Clarke nods, tugging at her lip as she looks at him. “Sorry, I know that you love being able to taste me, but I just — I need you close, right now.”

“Hey, none of that,” Bellamy chastises lightly, nosing at her chin, pressing his lips to the soft underside of it. “Why would you apologise for that, princess? You think I don’t love feeling you come on my fingers?” His hand smoothes over her stomach, the familiar weight of it sending a shiver of anticipation through her as he trails it down her body. “You think I don’t love being able to watch you? See every little way your body reacts to mine?”

“Of course not, it’s just—”

“No more apologies, baby,” he cuts her off, giving her a look that has her protests dying on her tongue. “Mm? No more sorrys. I’m making you feel good, remember? Which means my princess gets what she needs.” It’s then that his hand runs over the mound of her bare cunt, and Clarke has to stifle a soft gasp when he uses a finger to part her folds, meeting the warm, slickness of her arousal. “See? How do you think I could ever not want to do this, mm?” He draws his touch along the wet slit of her pussy, a teasing stroke that has her whimpering. “Making sounds like that? Feeling this way? God, baby, you’re always so wet for me. Never fails to amaze me.”

He presses into her properly then, just a single finger dipping into the pool of her arousal, and Clarke whines as he begins a slow, dragging massage of her cunt, exactly where she needs, but still not enough.

“More,” she tells him, catching his eye with clear need etched into her expression, in the draw of her brows and the pleading of her gaze.

“More what?”

She swallows, feels like the question is harder than it should be. _Everything_ seems like the appropriate answer, but she knows Bellamy appreciates when she’s specific, tells him exactly what she wants so he’s able to indulge her. “Fingers,” she says after a beat. “And — and words. Keep talking while you fuck me.”

Bellamy smiles, leans in to press his mouth against her neck. “I got you, babe. You just need to be looked after right now, huh?” 

“Yeah, Bell. Please,” she says, and this grin is sharper, as he draws his finger out, slides it back in again before she can protest, another one joining it, and _yes_ — that’s much better. “Oh, Bell, like that. Yeah. More, please.”

“Okay, baby, you’re ‘right. I just want you to relax, okay? Relax while you take my fingers.”

And just as they did earlier, his words sink into her, making her soften into his side, give in to the sensations he draws from her with his touch, the warmth that stretches through her body from his voice.

He starts on a quicker rhythm, curling his fingers to hit that sweet spot in her cunt, the warm and heavy weight of him inside her making her mind go cloudy, and she can already feel the build in her core, that early tightening that promises the rush of release he’s going to give her.

“Feels so good, Bell,” she murmurs, nosing at his jaw until he looks at her, as she lets one of her hands slide down to join his. “You mind if I play with my clit?”

His laugh is a little wrecked. “God, baby, how could I ever mind that?” His gaze drops to follow her movement, the two fingers she puts on her clit, just shy of the palm of his hand, before beginning to rub. “Yeah, that’s it, gorgeous girl. I fucking love watching you give yourself what you need. Think you can take another?”

“Oh, fuck. Yeah,” Clarke breathes out, and the pleasure that comes from her own fingers eases the stretch of her cunt as he adds another of his, curling with the ache deliciously, until it only feels good, only feels _incredible._

“Whatever you need, princess,” Bellamy says, nuzzling into her neck before he settles back to watch her, gaze heavy as he continues to fuck her quick and perfect on his fingers. “You think I’d get used to seeing you like this, but, fuck, Clarke, I don’t think I ever will. Look at yourself, baby. Taking my fingers like this. Always treating me so fucking well.”

“You’re not even getting anything,” she says, but it comes out pleased, a sharp sort of thrill lighting up in her chest at his words.

“You think I don’t love the feel of your pretty little cunt on my fingers, princess? Or all these gorgeous sounds you’re making, like you just don’t know how to keep them in?” He shakes his head, expression almost disbelieving as he finds her gaze, holds it with an intensity that’s reflected in the utter adoration of his voice. “God, baby, they’re some of my favourite things in the whole fucking world. So much of you, princess, Jesus — how — fuck, how unabashed you are when you wanna get fucked. And how important it is to you that I feel as loved as you do. How greedy you get for my mouth when you’re about to come.” 

“Fuck, Bell,” Clarke gasps, the feeling in her chest swelling at the words that are falling from his mouth, and it unlocks something she didn’t know she had inside of her, his praise suddenly like a direct line to her pleasure — not just an additional warmth to wrap around it subtly, but tugging at it sharply, fanning its flames so that it surges all at once, the tension at her cunt coiling impossible tight. “Bell, more, more,” she chants.

“You’re perfect, baby,” he tells her, his free hand moving to curl around her neck, a gentle sort of tether as she feels herself so close to breaking. “Never seen anyone so fucking perfect, princess. God, there’s no world where you exist that I’m not getting _everything._ ”

It becomes too much, the current of awe running through his words, the thrum of pleasure with each curl of his fingers deep in her cunt, the sharper kind she’s giving herself on her clit, all twisting together into a final rush of need.

“Fuck, Bell, I’m, I’m —”

“Yeah, that’s it, gorgeous girl,” Bellamy encourages. “Come on my fingers. I can’t fucking wait to feel that pretty pussy clench around me.”

She cries out, lurching up to catch his mouth as she comes, as greedy for him as he said she is, letting him taste the fucked-out sound of her release as she trembles and writhes, as her cunt pulses with the waves of pleasure that crash over her, an intensity to them she hasn’t ever felt before — one she knows, even through the haze of bliss, is related to the reverence of his praise.

It’s a long few minutes as she comes down, the smaller rolls of pleasure still washing over her, Bellamy’s hand running along her neck, a soothing motion he knows she loves, and she imagines what it’ll feel like once they’ve exchanged rings, to feel the cool metal against her skin, a physical reminder of their love — one of many.

“That was good,” she says eventually, still dazed and breathless, but with enough coherence to lean up again, catch Bellamy’s lips in a more controlled kiss, something soft and sweet.

His smile is warm. “Just good, huh?” He asks, and she knows he’s teasing, but it feels important to say, to let him know that she recognises just how much he gives her, and how much it means to her, that he’s here with her. Now; always.

“Yeah, you make me feel good,” she murmurs, giving him a small smile, soft and grateful, as she runs her thumb over the beautiful curve of his own. “And you make me feel deserving of good, too.”


	11. Exhibitionism II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the same verse as chapter 7 of this fic, which is prob good to give this some context

“Fuck, princess, you’re killing me here.”

Clarke bites back her smile, tugging at her bottom lip the way she knows Bellamy loves as she forces herself to keep her gaze on the notes in front of her. “What’s that, babe?”

His laugh is rough, almost ragged, the sound sending a delicious tingle over her skin, pulling it tight with a familiar sort of anticipation. “You know damn well what, princess,” he tells her, hand wrapping around her foot, stilling her from where she was teasing him beneath his jeans. “Trying to distract me from my grading, babe?”

Clarke shrugs, trying for nonchalance even with the knowing lilt to Bellamy’s voice. “No clue what you’re talking about, Bell.”

“So it’s not you trying to give me a foot job under the fucking desk right now?”

She’d be worried about the bold words carrying, but the library’s basically empty at this point, and they’re in their own study room. A glass wall along the front, but still private enough.

“Oh, that,” Clarke says, soft and sweet as she arches her foot in his grip, getting a warning squeeze in response. She finally looks up at him, meeting his darkened gaze with an innocent one of her own. “Baby, I told you if you kept distracting me, I’d have to distract you right back.”

Bellamy shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle as he sweeps his hooded gaze over her, no doubt recognising the desire that’s swelled within her over the past half hour. Ever since he switched over the grading pile for the subjects he’s TA-ing this semester, moving on from history finals to instead start on Spanish papers.

_Ever since he started reading those papers aloud._

It’s just another thing she’s learnt about herself this past year she and Bellamy have been together — at first only hooking up at the gym, and once she wrapped up the history elective he was TA-ing, properly dating — along with her thrill for his big, beefy body and her penchant for public sex. When Bellamy speaks a foreign language, she gets wet and achy and needy, desperate for the feel of him, preferably with that talented mouth.

The ridiculousness of it is not lost on her, but it’s true. There’s something about the way the words fall from his lips, the usual roughness of his voice curving deliciously around a perfected accent, his words flowing easily after years of practice. It’s mesmerising to listen to, even when he’s just murmuring essays under his breath in order to grade them.

Mesmerising and _distracting_.

Hence her retaliation.

“I can see that, princess,” Bellamy says now, arching a brow as he closes his laptop screen in front of him, giving her all his attention, the weight of it heavy on her, deepening her neediness into a headier desire. “Or _feel that_ , as it is. But I’m not sure how distracting me back helps anything, babe. Shouldn’t you just be trying to focus on your own revision. Block me out?”

He’s teasing her, she knows, can hear it in his voice, see it in the flicker of amusement in his gaze. Making fun like he always does when she complains about this.

“Shut up,” she mutters, pouting in that bratty way she knows drives him mad, enjoying the way his eyes dip to her lips for a lingering beat. A small victory, but enough to give her a proper plan. “It’s just — I’ve been studying for _hours_ , Bell, and my mind’s all a mess,” she says carefully, making herself look back at her notes, a jumble of anatomy terms jumping out at her. “Maybe I just need some positive reinforcement, you know. Motivation to keep going.”

“Positive reinforcement,” Bellamy repeats, and she bites back the coy smile that’s tugging at her lips, knows she’s got him with the way he says the words.

_Positive reinforcement._

That’s how their whole relationship started, and unsurprisingly, Clarke’s learnt to use it as an excuse for fooling around _a lot_. Especially when they’re in public. Especially when she’s feeling brattish and needy.

It’s a combination he finds difficult to resist, his desire to put her in her place, to push her until her usual sass and teasing turns to a sort of vulnerability and submission, and she’s not surprised that her opening for it is what’s pushed him over the edge, more so than her feeling up his cock over his jeans.

“I’m not sure positive reinforcement’s required when you’re studying for the last final of your degree,” Bellamy finally says, but she hears the scrape of the chair as he stands up, her leg dropping from where it was stretched out towards him. She feels him moving to her side of the desk, feels anticipation prickle at her skin as he sits down beside her, so close now. “But I’d never deny my girl what she _needs_ ,” he continues, breath hot on her skin, making warmth pool between her thighs. “Especially when I’m apparently what’s gotten her so hot and bothered.”

“You and your stupid mouth,” Clarke agrees, moving to push away her notes when Bellamy presses closer, lips landing roughly on her neck, but he catches her hand, pulling back and tilting her face to look at him.

“Uh-uh,” he says, shaking his head, his gaze hooded but still commanding, the expression so familiar with its promises it sends a shiver rolling down her spine. “Keep studying, princess. Let me and my stupid mouth take care of you.”

His lips move back to her neck only a moment later, and she lets out a soft gasp as he trails kisses down her throat, the familiar roughness of his stubble scratching at her skin. She tries to do as he says, tries to focus on the notes in front of her, memorise the path and branches of the trigeminal nerve, but it’s not easy as his hand lands just above her knee, the delicious weight a warm thrill as it slips beneath her skirt, inching up to the apex of her thighs.

“What’re you reading about now?” Bellamy asks as he reaches the edge of her panties, teasing just slightly beneath it, and Clarke knows he won’t go any further unless she answers properly, proves to him that she’s at least attempting to study like he asked.

“The twelve cranial nerves,” she answers a little breathily, rewarded when he slides his fingers over the mound of her cunt properly, meeting the warm slickness of her arousal as he parts her folds. “I’ve actually got a mnemonic that’s pretty relevant right now.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“ _Oh, Oh, Oh, To Touch And Feel Vaginas, God Vaginas Are Heaven_ ,” she quotes with effort, her laugh becoming a whine as Bellamy’s fingers find her clit, a sharp pulse of pleasure curling at her cunt as he rubs over the hot nub. “Fuck, Bell, keep at my clit. Please.”

“You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you,” he soothes, nuzzling at her neck with a rough laugh. “Not surprised that’s the mnemonic you went for; you do love some pussy, princess. If you tell me what it stands for I’ll get under this desk for you, bury my face in that _heavenly vagina._ ”

She breathes out a laugh, both pleased and amused, nudging at Bellamy’s jaw until he tilts his head enough that she can kiss him, hot and hard and self-assured. “Olfactory, optic, oculomotor. Trochlear, trigeminal, abducens. Facial, vestibulocochlear, glossopharyngeal. Vagus, accessory, hypoglossal.” 

His gaze is dark with desire as she finishes off the list, an intensity to his expression that has her body tightening, knowing the sharp circles he’s rubbing around her clit will soon be replaced by the wet warmth of his mouth. “I definitely shouldn’t find that as hot as I do,” he murmurs lowly, leaning forward to nibble quickly just under her jaw. “Dirty talk via anatomy. Might have to turn it around on you, babe, start speaking Spanish again.”

Just the thought of it has a wave of heat rolling through her, pooling heavily at her cunt. “God, you could be saying fucking anything and I’d still find it hot,” she says, knowing it’s embarrassingly true. He could be dirty talking or simply telling her what he ate for breakfast, and she’d have no clue, would still enjoy the way the words sounded coming from his mouth. “Now, come on, Bell. Your mouth, my pussy. Let’s go.”

He laughs, shaking his head fondly, and his next kiss is all indulgence, warm but sharp. “Brat,” he murmurs, giving her clit one last pinch before taking his hand back. “Now, careful not to make too much noise, princess. Can’t have any librarians walking past and wondering what’s going on in here.”

“I know the drill,” she assures, letting out a shaky breath as he gives her a wicked grin, before doing as promised. As she _earned._

Slipping out of his chair and getting under the desk, settling himself right in front of her. Sliding his hands up her thighs and pulling her to the edge of her chair. Tugging her panties down and off. Spreading her wide and completely open for him.

And thankfully, Bellamy does think her cunt’s heaven, because he doesn’t wait another moment before burying his face between her thighs, pressing his mouth where she’s hot and wet and aching for him.

Clarke stifles the cry that climbs up from her chest, the intensity of the electric pleasure hitting her sharply as Bellamy takes her clit between his lips, flicks it quick and rough with his tongue. His grip tightens on her, keeping her close as he begins working at her relentlessly, not bothering to draw it out and tease her like he sometimes does. Instead, he builds her up hard and fast, the way he does when he’s greedy for her taste, greedy for the feel of her cunt clenching around him, latching onto her clit and drawing out the sharp pleasure as he slides his fingers just below, dipping them into the warm pool of her.

“Fuck, Bell,” Clarke whines as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that sweet spot in her cunt, her hips grinding into his touch without any proper thought. “More, more,” she pleads letting her head tip back and her eyes fall shut. She can’t even try to keep up a normal facade on the chance that somebody walks past their study room, too overcome by the surge of pleasure hot and growing at her core. “Please, babe. Bell. Please, keep going.”

He doesn’t respond, just rubs his free hand soothingly at her hip, letting her know he’s got her as he continues the relentless press of his mouth and thrust of his fingers, and Clarke lets him take her, gives in to the sensations curling through her body, building and stretching as he sucks and flicks and fucks, until it’s all too much, the tension within her snapping and crumbling as she comes, a broken cry tumbling from her, one she has to stifle with her hand last minute.

The warmth of release rushes through her, her cunt clenching around Bellamy’s thick fingers, her clit pulsing hot where his tongue still laps at it, and it’s a good minute before it eases into a calmer bliss, her body humming softly with pleasure as he pulls back with a final kiss to her pussy, comes to sit back beside her.

His mouth is still a little wet from her cum, his eyes hooded and sparking dark with unabashed want, and it’s one of her favourite looks on him. “Worth the distraction?” He asks, a cockiness to his voice she’s familiar with, even as he presses a soft and loving kiss to the corner of the mouth, and Clarke can’t help but breathe out a laugh.

“You didn’t even give me any Spanish dirty talk,” she complains, but it’s half-hearted at best; she’s too sated to really care.

“How ‘bout this,” he says, tilting her head to kiss her properly, and she whimpers into his mouth, at the taste of herself on his tongue. When he pulls back, it’s with both a promise and a plan etched into his expression, an unwavering desire in his gaze that she loves. “I’ll take you home and give you a proper run of it.”

Her grin is fucked out, she can feel, but again, she doesn’t really care.

“Sounds like a plan,” she says, stealing another kiss from him. “Can’t wait to hear you wax poetics about my heavenly vagina in Spanish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, mnemonics like these helped me pass anatomy and graduate!!!!
> 
> Also fuck cranial nerves, because they really sucked


	12. Pregnancy/baby verse III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same verse as chapter 2 & 8
> 
> This is my last fill for this series! Thanks for reading along the way, it was a lot of fun!

“You’re amazing, princess, you know that?”

Clarke’s smile is soft and sleepy, a warmth in her expression that Bellamy feels in himself immediately, as he watches on in a quiet state of awe, drinking in the sight he’s been so blessed with: his two girls in bed beside him, Clarke propped up against a pillow, Hazel cradled to her breast, so achingly gentle together as the little baby feeds.

“ _She’s_ amazing,” Clarke says, thumb moving to trace the curve of Hazel’s cheeks, her face lighting up when Haze blinks up at them, big brown eyes taking them both in. “Drinking like a champ now, aren’t you, baby? Doing so well for mama.”

Bellamy chuckles, shuffling over to nuzzle at Clarke’s neck lightly, enjoying the sound of her cooing quietly to their daughter. She shifts to lean against him, and he takes the weight happily, wrapping his arm around her body to settle against Hazel’s back with hers.

“Probably only another five minutes, and she’ll be full,” Clarke guesses, and she’s right, Hazel popping off her breast only a few minutes later, squirming back with a sleepy, blissed out expression they’re both so familiar with.

“Milk drunk baby,” Bellamy says with a likely ridiculous grin, pressing his thumb over Hazel’s small, adorable mouth, where she’s got a mess of milk, before reaching out for her in Clarke’s arms. “I’ll put her down again,” he tells Clarke, easing the sleepy baby into his arms after placing a cloth over his shoulder, careful not to startle her as he settles her at his chest to burp her. “Go back to sleep, princess. I’ll probably only be a few minutes anyway, she looks tired.”

“Just drunk off the good stuff,” Clarke says, tucking herself back into her nursing cami before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Hazel’s head. She settles back into bed properly, watching them both with a warm grin as he stands up, begins patting Hazel’s back softly with a gentle side-sway. “Mm, you’re amazing, you know that?”

Bellamy snorts, rolling his eyes when Clarke just grins at him. “Brat,” he murmurs fondly, easing Hazel back down to cradle at his chest once she lets out a tiny burp. “Not nice to tease, princess.”

She laughs a little, biting at her bottom lip as her eyes soften. “I’m not teasing,” she promises. “You are amazing with her, and I love just being able to watch you two together.”

It’s impossible not to smile at that, and he flicks his gaze down quickly, noting the way Hazel’s eyes are growing heavier, her blinks getting longer each time. “So you’re not going back to sleep, then?”

“Not yet,” Clarke says. “I think I’ll just let this moment soak in.”

Thankfully, Hazel’s been sleeping better these past few weeks, longer stretches at night and settling a lot easier when they put her down, and it’s only another five minutes before she’s drowsy in his arms, close to sleep again. After a last smile to Clarke, he walks her over to the nursery adjoining their room, gentle as he eases Hazel into her cot, watching as the small baby drifts off that final bit, sleepy peace softening her face completely.

It’s another few minutes before he manages to creep out of the room quietly, too caught up just watching his daughter, and despite Clarke’s words, the sight of her waiting for him is still an unexpected one.

“Not tired, princess?” He asks, sliding back into bed next to her, rolling onto his side to face her, and she surprises him by leaning in immediately, pressing her lips to his in a soft but drawn out kiss.

“Always,” she says against his mouth, moving closer to him now, the warmth of her body settling nicely against his, her hand reaching up to cradle his jaw. “But you just looked so good with Hazel in your arms like that, I had to stay up to watch you.”

Bellamy chuckles, eyes dipping down to the pink flush of Clarke’s lips, pressing forward to take them again, and when she whimpers into it, it’s impossible not to keep going, breathing in the familiar scent of her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as he kisses her once, then twice, before they get lost in it, the short, softer kisses deepening into longer, more heated ones, a spark of urgency making their hands greedy for each other, for the indulgence of a moment of intimacy that’s harder to come by than they’re used to, now that they’ve got a three and a half month old to take care of.

“You know what’s awful?” Clarke asks on a gasp, head tilted up as Bellamy begins trailing his mouth down the soft column of her throat, his free hand sliding down her back and to her ass, in a tiny pair of sleep shorts, squeezing the nice, soft curve of her.

“Fuck, don’t be telling me awful things now, baby,” he responds, pulling back to watch as the usual creaminess of her skin flushes pink from his work. “Only good things here.”

Her laugh isn’t much more than a shaky exhale, and it turns into a whine when he tugs her towards him, until her hips are pressed to his and she can feel the hardness of his cock beneath his briefs. “ _Fuck, Bell,_ ” she murmurs, tugging him back up to catch his mouth, hot and a little desperate. “Not — not _awful_ awful. Just — embarrassing.”

Sliding his palm to her hip, he rubs a thumb over the slip of skin where her cami’s ridden up. “Tell me.”

“Just before. When you took Haze and you were rocking her to sleep, and I just got to watch you with her.” She hesitates, biting at her lip as she looks at him properly, gaze dark and hooded. “I felt myself getting kinda wet.”

The effect of the confession is immediate, Bellamy feeling as her words sink into his mind and stretch throughout his body, fanning the heady flames of desire within him. His cock twitches, heavy and wanting where Clarke’s pressed against him, and he feels as heat simmers just beneath his skin, as a primal sort of hunger runs thick through his veins.

_She got wet, watching him with the baby they made together._

_The baby he fucked into her, the baby she took care of for nine months before they got to meet her._

A spark of possessiveness curls low in his gut, a darker sort of pride she’s able to draw from in. “Yeah?” He asks, voice dropped even lower, even rougher than usual.

“Blame it on weird baby hormones,” Clarke says, still tugging at her lip, and he leans forward to do it for her, making her gasp. “And — _fuck_ — and pent up arousal from when I came home to find her sleeping on your bare chest.”

“Christ, princess,” he mutters roughly, shifting his hand between them, teasing the front edge of her sleep shorts. “Had no idea my baby was getting so worked up about this.”

“You’re such a good dad,” she protests, tilting her hips forward when he slips his hand beneath her panties, the hot curve of her cunt perfect against his touch. “It’s a turn on.”

His laugh is rough, a little wrecked, and Clarke catches the sound with her mouth as he parts the lips of her pussy, finding her warm and wet as promised, silky with the arousal that’s pooled at her cunt. He dips into her, drawing her slickness onto his fingers to tease her slit, run light circles over her clit, and it’s only a few seconds before Clarke’s grinding on his hand, desperate for his touch.

“Fuck, that’s it, babe. Take what you need,” he says against her mouth, shifting to trail his lips along her jaw, up to that sweet spot behind her ear. “Now how do you want to come, princess, my mouth or my fingers?”

“Fuck,” Clarke gasps, hands moving to curl around his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there. A few ragged breaths, and then she surprises him again. “Neither. I want — fuck, I want your cock, Bell.”

He pulls back to look at her, can only imagine the desire that’s darkened his expression in an instant.

Because while they’ve had the rare chance to fool around these last couple of weeks — just quick moments with fingers and mouths when they’ve been greedy for each other — it’s been months since he felt the tight warmth of Clarke’s pussy around his cock — since a few weeks before Hazel was born, and then the three and a half months since she arrived — and the chance that he could feel her again now has a roll of heat sweeping through him, his cock stiffening in his briefs.

He’d never want to rush Clarke, but he also trusts that she knows herself and knows her body, and that if she says she’s ready, then she is. At least ready to try.

“Shit. Yeah?” He asks, voice mirroring the want swelling within him.

Her eyes are dark and wanting, skin flushed a pretty pink and lips worked red and puffy — a picture of hazy desire — but her voice is sure when she speaks, a thread of confidence through her breathlessness. “Yeah,” she says, nodding to him. “Yes. I really wanna ride you, Bell.”

“Fuck, baby,” he says, her words making his body hum with heated anticipation, four months in the making. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.”

He slips his hand from Clarke’s cunt, rolling onto his back for her, and she wastes no time, sitting herself up beside him and curling her fingers around the edge of his briefs, tugging them down and off for him. His cock springs up towards his stomach, almost completely thick and hard after just the few minutes of their fooling around, and Bellamy watches as Clarke bites at her lip before reaching for him, the softness of her hand circling around him, a small relief as she gives him a few slow, teasing strokes.

It’s not too difficult to hold back the quiet grunt that presses at the back of his throat with just the feel of her hand, but when she leans down, her mouth hovering over him for a few lingering beats before she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock, laps softly at the pre-cum beaded at the sensitive tip, it’s impossible not to groan.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy husks out, having to close his eyes at the feeling, as she takes him between her lips, just past the head, gives him gentle sucks that has his cock stiffening the rest of the way inside of her mouth. “God, baby, feel so good. Your mouth is heaven.”

She pops off of him and he looks up to find her grinning, sly and teasing. “Still wanting my pussy, I hope,” she says, and he can’t help but laugh, reach out to squeeze her hand.

“Fuck, babe, of course,” he promises, mind going a little hazy just with the thought. “Whenever you’re ready, I can’t wait to bury my cock into your sweet-as-all-fuck cunt.”

Her grin gets tugged between her lips, her gaze going dark and hooded, and Bellamy keeps his eyes fixed on her as she slides her own sleep shorts and panties down and off, leaving her only in her dark cami. Then she’s pressing her hands to his chest and settling on top of him with a familiar ease, shifting her legs to straddle a little below his hips, his cock just in front of her.

“Like riding a bike, yeah?” she says, a soft laugh lighting up her face, and Bellamy can’t help but laugh with her.

“Something like that,” he agrees teasingly, curling his hands around her hips, letting his thumbs rub softly over her skin. “Now grab some lube, baby. I know you’re wet, but I just wanna make sure.”

Her expression softens at his words — not losing any of the heat, just allowing her gratitude and love to shine through, and Clarke leans down to press a quick, soft kiss to his lips before doing as he asked, reaching over to the bedside table to grab the bottle he keeps in there.

She makes quick work of squeezing some out onto her hand, wrapping it around him and giving him a few long strokes to cover the length, and the sight sends a gentle feeling of relief through him, glad that they’re both conscious to ease any discomfort she may have from having him inside of her again after giving birth. He wants to make it as good as possible for her, wants her to feel nothing but the good kind of ache that comes from a nice fuck.

“Ready?” She asks, pressing up to her knees and lining herself up with his cock, and Bellamy groans at the teasing feel of her warmth, the head of him pressed to the opening of her cunt.

“Whenever you are,” he tells her, and Clarke gives him one last smile before she’s easing herself onto him.

His gaze drops, and he watches, transfixed, as she sinks down onto him slowly, doesn’t have to look up to know that Clarke’s doing the same — eyes locked on where they’re finally joining again, for the first time since Hazel arrived.

It’s a slow, bated moment, and Bellamy can feel the way Clarke stretches as she takes more and more of him, adjusting to the familiar intrusion, until she’s finally settled on him completely, warm and tight and fucking _perfect._

“Okay?” He asks, needing to check in, for her reassurance that she’s still feeling good about this, and he gets it when she meets his gaze again, smile soft and warm.

“Yeah,” she says, moving to slide her palms up his stomach and to his chest, the warm weight of them delicious on his skin. “Kinda achey just from the stretch, but it’s already easing. I feel good, Bell. _You_ feel good. Fuck, I’ve missed it, having you fill me up so completely. Fuck me so good like you do.”

His laugh feels ragged, and he runs his hands down Clarke’s thighs, needing something to do with them. “I’ve missed it too, baby. So much. And fuck you feel good, too.”

“Yeah? Not too different?”

She tries to hide the vulnerability, but he can still hear the uncertain traces of it, the slight self consciousness that creases her brow. “Not at all,” he says, and he takes her hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss at her palm. “You’re perfect, baby. And your pussy feels so fucking divine I might pass out if you don’t start riding me like you promised.”

The joke works as he hoped, Clarke’s face clearing of any doubt as a smile tugs at her lips and she laughs, resting her hands back on his chest, giving herself the support she needs to roll her hips, slow and deliberate against his.

It’s slow to start, Clarke easing into a steady rhythm as she grinds herself onto him, just reacquainting herself with the feel of his cock buried in her cunt, with the way she likes to move on top of him, and Bellamy strokes her hips as he lets her take what she needs, go at the pace she feels comfortable, breathing through the effort it takes not to buck up into the gorgeous tight warmth of her. But luckily, Clarke’s always been the impatient type, because it’s only a couple of minutes before she’s wanting more, and Bellamy watches as she lifts herself up before sinking back down onto him again, repeating the action several times until she settles into a new rhythm, his cock throbbing blissfully from the slow and sweet drag of her pussy over his length.

“This good?” She asks, meeting his gaze as she starts to speed up, and all Bellamy can do is laugh, the sound wrecked to his own ears.

“Fucking amazing, princess,” he assures, letting his eyes do a slow and deliberate sweep of her, drinking in the gorgeous sight.

Eyes dark but alight, lips red and worked from his mouth, skin flushed a pretty pink. Legs spread perfectly either side of his hips, cunt drawing him in and out with her perfect heat, giving herself what she needs.

Like a queen on her throne.

The mother of his child, as gorgeous as he’s ever seen her.

“Fuck, Bell, I almost forgot that way you look at me when I’m riding you,” Clarke says, already a little breathless as she interrupts his perusal, his eyes snapping back to her, watching as her expression creases with need. “Like you never want me to stop. Fuck, I want — I need—” 

He growls. “Tell me.”

“More,” she says on a breath, shaking her head a little desperately, the gesture so achingly familiar he feels it in himself; he knows she just wants to come now, and the desire to get her there has his whole body pulling tight. “My clit,” she adds after a moment, and Bellamy’s fingers are there only a second later, giving her the rough circles she loves.

Her cunt clenches deliciously around him, her head dropping back with a quiet whine, and he watches, mesmerised, as Clarke brings her hands up to her shoulders, undoing the clips to her nursing cami, letting the top half come undone so her tits are free. They’re larger now that she’s breastfeeding, nipples dark and puffier, but still one of his absolute favourite parts of her, and when he notices the drop of milk that’s beaded onto the rosy tip of her nipple, it’s impossible not to surge up, let his mouth find the bud and lap it up, her sweetness heavy on his tongue.

“Jesus, Clarke,” he mutters, continuing to trail his mouth up her chest and to her neck, her movements easing as he settles in this position properly, chest to chest now as he supports himself with a hand on the bed behind him. “Taste so fucking good, baby.”

Her laugh isn’t much more than a breath. “You only get one taste,” she tells him, biting at his jaw once his mouth reaches her face and he gives her a final quick kiss to her lips. “I don’t want to start lactating because you got carried away with my tits.”

Bellamy chuckles, nuzzling into her neck as Clarke starts moving properly again, curling her fingers over his shoulders. They can only manage shallow thrusts now, the angle changed with him sitting upright, but apparently it doesn’t matter, not when Clarke can still grind slow and sweet over his cock, not when his fingers continue to move good nice and hard on her clit, and not when they’re close like this, wrapped up in each other, the world quietening around them as the heavy warmth of intimacy sinks into them.

“Fuck, Bell,” Clarke whines, pressing her forehead against his, her body beginning to tremble at every point against him. “This is what I needed. You, close. I’m right — _fuck_ , I’m right there.”

Bellamy speeds up his fingers, helps her out a little by pushing up into her as she presses herself down. “You’re ‘right, baby,” he reassures, words quiet in the small space between them, just for her. “Just let go, hm, princess? You’re gonna feel so good.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she agrees, nodding against him without moving back, just continuing to let everything within her build as she keeps him close, until finally she does as he said, cunt clenching hot and tight around his cock as she lets go and comes, back arching into him and fingers digging hard and delicious into his shoulders.

And it’s impossible to hold back after that, with the feel of her pussy so perfect around him, coming for the first time on his cock in months. The familiar pulses of release rush down his spine, and Bellamy follows her, his balls pulling tight and his cock swelling, spilling into the silky heat of her as a wave of pleasure crashes over him, has him surging forward to take her mouth in a desperate, messy kiss she moans into.

It’s softened by the time they both start coming down, each of them hazy from release, heavy with satisfaction, and all Bellamy can do is cradle her jaw, keep her close as he eases himself back on to the bed, Clarke following as they finish off how they started, exchanging short, loving kisses.

“How was that?” He murmurs when Clarke finally pulls herself back, drawing in a few long breaths. Her hair is a mess, her eyes soft, and when she smiles, he feels his chest ache with the warmth it radiates.

“Perfect,” she says, sitting up again to slide off of his softening cock, and settling back down on his chest immediately after. “You?”

Her skin is warm and sticky against his, her body a soothing weight on top of him. He runs his hand over the length of her back, kisses at her hair when she presses her face into his neck, can already feel the way they’re both growing heavy with sleep, sated from the pleasure they’ve just shared.

In a few hours, Hazel will be waking them again with a sharp cry, wanting to be held and fed, and they’ll bring her to bed with them, watch her sleepily feed at Clarke’s breast in the early hours of the morning. The start to another tiring yet incredible day in their growing family.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling himself smile as his eyes fall shut, happiness humming through his body. “I think perfect about sums it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone has enjoyed some kink and smut these past few months
> 
> Sorry if I wasn't able to fill a prompt you sent in, I loved them all, but logistically couldn't fill everything in the time frame I was wanting to finish this in
> 
> And again, thanks for reading with me and supporting me along the way, it really means a lot :)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos fuel me pls & thank uuu


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